Through Smudged Glass
by angelwings1
Summary: [AU:continuation][Fuugen] It didn't matter if it had been two years or two hundred. Things don't change. Especially the feeling she got whenever she saw his rugged face, even if it was on the news as they handcuffed him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

Biting her lip, she carefully scrawled her name on the black line and handed the pen back to the man. The balding officer with a permanent scowl held out her license with an irritated grunt and pointed her to one of the several waiting stalls. Pushing the card back into her back jean pocket the young woman glanced up and down the long aisle. There were only a few of the stalls occupied, she noticed as she reached her appointed box. She awkwardly pulled back the dingy plastic chair and winced as its battered feet squealed against the tile floor. Several of the guards gave her an annoyed look and she hastily took her seat.

As she sat there, she observed the small enclosure of three feet wide counter top, and three walls reaching the ceiling. There were numerous scrawls covering the pale wood of her box. They were mostly curse words or proclamations of dates attending the cold complex. Her eyes quietly scanned the mixture of color and handwriting, but finding none of the writing interesting save for a ridiculous rhyme about bullets and gang members, the young woman glanced at the white phone hanging on the right wall. It appeared to be a fairly cheap brand and obviously old from the scuff marks covering the unsanitary off-white plastic. She momentarily wished she had brought some form of wipes to clean the dumb thing. Who knew what types of people had gripped the phone and panted into the mouthpiece? She cringed as a visual of a dirty old man came to mind.

Forcing her eyes away from the phone, the girl looked pass the glass wall across from her and studied the room on the other side. There was only a single guard present against the opposite, boring white wall. He appeared to be in his late thirties, broad shoulders and strong chest. There was a black gun in his holster and a matching stick alongside it, but his stance was relaxed. They probably didn't get a lot of unwelcome behavior in the visitor's hall.

About two feet away to the officer's left stood the only exit and entry to the room: a chipping green, metal door. A small rectangle window covered with thick grating offered no view beyond the door. She craned her head a little, hoping to be discreet as she tried to get a better view of, what she guessed was a hall, but all she could see were a few overhanging lights. Pouting, she sunk back into her uncomfortable chair and shivered when her lower back brushed the cold plastic

She wondered if the guards normally told the name of the visitor. Would he be surprised? He would probably be confused to see her. Would it be too much to think he would be happy to see her? Her pink tennie shoes began to bounce anxiously as she watched the door.

It didn't take long for her patience, or lack of, to be rewarded as the door eased opened and revealed a man in an overly bright orange jumpsuit. He appeared to have changed little in two years that she had been separated from him. There was a noticeable bruise beneath his right eye and a cut in his lower lip, but he still had the same wild, untamable hair and uncaring expression. He was definitely the correct persona found in the heavy security prison. Even so, she hated seeing the silver handcuffs jingling on his wrists as he walked into the room.

She instantly stiffened as he lazily strolled in. His hard eyes were immediately reading the stalls' faded numbers for his reserved box. She was pleased to see the reading lessons that had been drilled into him a month before their separation had not been wasted when his eyes quickly located her box. She held her breath as his gaze lifted to discover who, out of his limited acquaintances, had come to visit. His eyes widened as they fell on her.

Two years could definitely bring some moderate change in a person. Mind you her chest was still small, but there was the evident hint of curves under her jean jacket. She still resembled much of the young teenage he had known back in that time. Her hair had kept its normal messy pose in her clip and she wore a familiar pink shirt with sketchy sunflowers. Her brown eyes were still bright and naïve, even though shadowed.

Unsure of what else to do, she smiled softly and waved. He scowled slightly, but offered no other response to her greeting. Walking over to his mirrored stall on the other side of the window, he jerked his chair back and proceeded to drop unceremoniously in his seat. His eyes showed nothing as he slouched forward and propped his elbows on the desk top.

Her smile widened at his familiar pose. It had been far too long since she had last seen that look. Nearly at the exact same time the two reached for their twin phones.

"Sup," his voice carried perfectly clear through the line, rough and raw.

"Hey," she replied, carefully searching his eyes. He didn't appear to unwelcome her visit, but he obviously wanted to know what possessed her to come. Her thoughts were confirmed when he didn't offer to say anything. She exhaled softly through her nose. "How have you've been?"

He shrugged, "Bored. Rough up a few cellmates and they won't let you do shit."

Her delicate eyebrow rose, "Other prisoners gave you that look?"

The man snorted, "Hell no. Pussy guards knocked me with their damn sticks. Broke up the first bit of fun I've had since I got here."

"How long have you been here?"

He scowled, "What's the date?"

"August 14th."

"Over a month."

"Saw you on the news a week ago. I thought you would get caught sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be in a whorehouse," she commented dryly.

"They got lucky on a raid," he rumbled, obviously bitter, "If my pants hadn't been down and the cops hadn't been smart enough to recognize my face, I wouldn't be here."

"The blue tattoos on your wrists might have tipped them off. You aren't the only one to mark his prison experience like that."

"Like I give a shit if they recognize it," he huffed.

She rolled her eyes, "Same Mugen."

His eyebrows pinched together, "What? You think I would reform myself in this hole?"

She shook her head, getting her brunette bangs to dance irritably in her eyes. Growling she pushed them aside only them to fall back into place. "How long is your sentence?"

"Six years," he roughly replied, sticking his finger into his ear with usually indifference. "They only got me on robbery. You remember that government ship I told you about that? Where I got double crossed?"

She nodded. Yanking his finger out he said, "Well the dick heads that caught me back then were smart and got photographs of my face before I escaped. They've been circulating for a while since then."

"You're talking a lot today," she laughed lightly, "I usually had to bribe you to talk."

His face darkened slightly, and she wondered what she had said that bring on the shadow in his eyes. "What do you want, Fuu?"

The young girl frowned at his lack of emotion. For the last few minutes it had felt like nothing had changed. She could almost envision the hillside beneath her feet and the nameless dirt path. Yet, he had broken her happy daydream and forced her to open her eyes to the present. "What do you mean 'what I want'?"

"You here to reminisce?" he growled angrily, pushing back in his chair, "Because I'm not in the mood."

"I would have thought something new in your prison routine would be refreshing," she said deadpanned.

"Don't lecture me you, wench," he hissed into the receiver. His grip tightened on the white phone and she worried he might break the plastic.

"I'm not!" she cried a little too loudly, glaring back at him. "I'm just—grr!"

She was quickly forgetting why she had come at all. He had always been a dumb hothead. Her fingers clicked stiffly on the countertop as she carefully took a deep breath. Looking him square in his pissed off face, she decided to just say it and be done, "I made a deal with an official. I'm paying off your time here."

The ex-gangster blinked in surprise, "Huh?"

"I'm getting you out," she repeated as she held up a piece against the smudged fingerprints of the glass. He glanced momentarily at the document, but there were so many words covering the page he gave up trying to read it.

"How'd you pull that?"

She hesitated to answer as she pulled the paper down, making his frown deepen. The man leaned forward and eyed her angrily, "You gave him your sorry excuse of a body?"

"Mugen!" she cried, blushing hotly. She glanced up at the guard behind him and noticed his curious glance. Half covering her receiver, the girl whispered hotly, "I'm not some whore!"

"Then how?" he insisted, "I've pissed off too many people for you to win with puppy dog eyes."

Her eyes darted to the guard again before mumbling. Mugen frowned, "What?"

Another glance, "I paid him off."

His eyebrows jumped. It would have taken a number of dollars he knew she couldn't have legally earned in two years. His eyes narrowed, "How much we talking?"

She shifted slightly and pulled her elbow off the counter, "Ten thousand."

The line crackled with a foul curse and she nearly giggled at the open mouth expression he wore. His eyes easily spoke what he could not.

_How the f—did you get that?_

She shook her head, "I have a small apartment on the other side of town."

His mind was still trying to process the entire thought of leaving the prison when he heard her say, "There's not much, but they'll be a couch and food. You can stay until you decide what to do next."

"How'd you get the money?"

She ignored the question as she hurried to finish, "I'm not asking you to stay, and you don't even have to earn you keep. You've done enough for me."

"Fuu!"

Her eyes lifted slowly from the table. Mugen's words caught in his throat when he saw the shy, nervousness she held.

"How'd you get it, Fuu?" he repeated, his words heavy.

"I went back to your neighborhood," she confessed softly, almost too quiet to hear. "I found the money Mukuro hid from the heist on the shogunate."

Her body tensed, unable to guess what his reaction would be. His old neighborhood was the Hell of violence and crime. Dirty cops and prostitutes were the flaky surface of the underground fights and sex slaves. When they had passed through years ago, Mugen had been moderately vocal of the dangers, a bad sign that the place was lethal to a visitor's health. Her young eyes had seen little of the slums during her life, and as she snuck through the alleys and pimp houses she had been overwhelmed with sadness for the childhood she imagined he had suffered.

The only time he had purposely left her side, during their stay there, was when he had taken on the job with an ex-gang member named Mukuri. The acquaintance had needed an extra man and they had needed the money for a train ride. Personally, she hadn't agreed to the idea of going against an armored truck and trained security. She had yelled at the stupid man as he had exited their temporary apartment, saying anything that flashed in her head in hopes of stopping him. In the end, the job had succeeded, but Mukuri had betrayed Mugen and hidden all the stolen money. Mugen barely survived the gunshot. While Fuu had tended to the injured man, Jin, another man who had been traveling with them, had tried to find the money. Unfortunately, their friend had been forced to kill the gangster out of defense and the location of the wealth was left in its hiding spot. Sadly, they were forced to follow the railway by foot until they were able to secretly jump unto a parked train.

"You went back there?" he growled angrily into the phone, his knuckles turning white on the neck of the phone.

Fuu glared, "I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have not gone! Damn it!" he hollered so loud the glass vibrated. Several of the guards locked their eyes on the pair while visitors and inmates leaned back in their seats to see what was going on. Mugen ignored them all as he kept his fiery eyes locked on the young girl. "Didn't I tell you that place was dangerous? A number of things could have happened to your scrawny ass!"

"I'm fine, Mugen," she grumbled weakly, "The worst thing that happened was some guy tried to be my pimp."

"Don't lie to me!" he hissed lowly, his gaze glancing over her unconsciously. "You would have to have gone through quite a lot of shit to find that money."

Her frown grew limp in guilt. He was absolutely right and he knew it. Even in broad daylight, she had gotten corner by large men or forced to duck in the middle of a shoot out. The pimp she had spoken about had actually tried to rape her in an abandoned apartment complex.

"I hired muscle," she replied quietly, "Promised part of the prize to him."

His bushy eyebrow twitched, "Four eyes?"

Fuu rolled her eyes, "Took me over two years to find you. How would I ever fin Jin? The guy was someone I met in the last year."

"Boyfriend?" he asked, his cold tone surprising her considerably.

She shook her head slightly, her eyes watching him. "Old friend of my dad's. If he hadn't needed the money for his daughter's operation, he wouldn't have let me go."

"He could have double crossed you. Haven't you learned anything since Mukuri?"

"He's an ex-boxer like my dad," she growled, trying to hold down her temper. "He owes my father a lot so he would never do anything to me."

The prisoner slowly leaned back in his chair and she could tell he was evaluating her. She nervously pulled the cuff of her jean jacket lower, hoping he didn't spot the scar she got from the knife fight. His eyes dropped at her movement, but he kept silent. She stared quietly at him suddenly aware of how much she missed his rugged features. It had been hard separated from him years ago, never able to admit her feelings, and now seeing him unaffected by time she was bursting with the urge to hug him.

Seconds turned into minutes and when the ex-gangster still said nothing, the young girl blushed lightly. Glancing at the clock, she realized they didn't have much longer before the guard took him back. Her grip on the phone tightened as she straightened her shoulders. She could hurry and tell him.

Her voice died in her throat almost automatically as she thought of everything she wanted to say. She didn't know what to say first. She had to tell him how she missed his scent of sandalwood and his flaming temper. She wanted him to know about how she had thought of him every time she went to sleep, and how she still felt the warmth of his annoying presence. The image of his battered form standing in the condemned church when she had been captured still plagued her thoughts with such vividness that she could taste blood in her mouth. When she realized the magnitude of all she had to say to the rogue, she dejectedly accepted it couldn't be expressed in six short minutes.

Sighing sadly, she decided it might be better to wait till they got to the apartment, if she could find the lacking strength then. It would be better to call the guard.

When she was about to mumble her weak goodbye she was silenced by his strong voice whispering, "You didn't have to, Fuu."  
She blinked rapidly and leaned forward. "Yes, I did."

"I deserve to be here," he insisted darkly, "I've done a lot of things… things worth more than a measly six years of barred cells."

She could sense the underlying brokenness his words carried. He had never admitted what he had done bothered him, but she had always guessed. Fuu gently shook her head as her hand pressed against the bottom of the glass, "I don't care about that, Mugen. I never did. I had to help you."

He snorted and a shadow crossed his face as he glared at her dainty palm on the smudged glass. Her shoulders dropped. He didn't even know why she had done it.

"I owe you, Mugen," she whispered carefully. "You saved me so many times… I couldn't j-just sit back and do nothing. W-We're like family."

His eyes widened at her soft admission and he went to open his mouth to reply, but a firm hand landed on her shoulder stealing away the moment. Fuu bit her lip and looked up to see the firm scowl of the head guard. She nodded lightly and looked back at her friend to see him angrily glaring at the officer. Holding back her laughter, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow. If all the paperwork makes it through without trouble I was promised you would be released by nine in the morning."

His eyes quickly snapped back to her. His lips twisted and she knew he wanted to say something, but was holding back. She shrugged and whispered, "Later, Mugen."

She didn't expect a farewell so she hung the phone back on its cradle and pushed her chair back. Tears began to fill her eyes and she quickly turned to hide them. There was so much left unsaid bulging up in her throat. She still didn't know if she could admit any of it or that he would respond positively to what she wanted to confess, but the pain of keeping them in hurt.

Involuntarily she took a foolish glance back, hoping she would see some form of emotion on his face. Her chest squeezed as she saw the back of his head bobbing towards his exit. The tears slid hot down her face as the green door closed and hid the chunk of her heart. She wouldn't be able to keep quiet for long she knew. Sooner or later she would blurt it out like the fifteen year old she used to be. Even though her heart loudly disagreed, she hoped he didn't stay long at her apartment so she might escape the rejection she feared.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo.

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

**Chapter 2**

"I can make dumplings tonight."

"Feh," he grunted as he dropped the handful of plastic bags onto the stained material lining the trunk. There was a fatal crack heard as they landed and the young girl whirled on the newly released convict.

Eyes narrowed and her brow twitching, the girl hissed, "Mugen, if you get any egg on my car I will bring you back to prison."

He didn't even offer her a polite glance to see if she was serious. Instead, he slammed the lid shut, propped his arms behind his head, and strolled to the passenger's door. The grip on her purse reached a lethal point for the worn leather as the man looked over at her lazily with that infuriating I-don't-give-a-shit expression. "You gunna unlock it?"

She knew the vein in her head had to be visible and that only made her more infuriated. She had sacrificed for the dumb jerk and he still treated her like the crap from two years ago. She stubbornly reminded herself that gnashing her teeth would ruin her beautiful smile.

"You really enjoy pissing me off, don't you?" she growled as she dug for her keys. "I swear that orange jumpsuit you had on is looking better every hour."

"Too bad there's nothing solid the police can hold me on now," he said cheekily. "Punishment has been served in the amount of ten k."

"Shut up!" she snapped as she stabbed her key into the car lock. Dropping heavily into the ninety-five blue Honda, Fuu stared at the ex-gangster's torso, the only visible view of the man, and debated letting him hike home. He had only been out for two days, but his street smarts would easily get him back to her apartment. Course, there was always the possibility that he would decide to move on to greener pastures—probably to spite her—and that was an idea she didn't want to face. He probably knew this and was waiting for her reaction.

Defeated, Fuu reached over the passenger's seat and yanked on the door lock. Three seconds later he was reclining in his seat with smug smile on his face. Ignoring the fact he still refused to wear his seatbelt, Fuu cranked up her little blue car and pulled out of the market's parking lot.

"Would you rather I make something else?" she asked, trying to keep the irritation in her voice to a minimal. She pressed her blinker and rolled into the proper lane.

"Feh," he grunted. His eyes were hooded and inattentive.

Her vein throbbed as she willed her eyes to not give into the desire to glare at him, "If you want to eat grass, that's fine with me, Mugen. I'm offering you free food so cut the crap."

He glanced up at her and their eyes connected in the rearview mirror. She nearly hit the brakes so she could turn around and throttle the man. It was barely visibly, but he was obviously smirking at her. A light chuckle reached her ears, "What about fish?"

Her eyebrows shot up, "I thought you swore off fish."

He shrugged as he looked out his window to watch the building switch from neat and clean to dark and dirty. Fuu's apartment was on the edge of the slums. It was far more impressive than his hometown, but there were a few locals who circulated her building that she had to avoid. She claimed she hadn't had a problem in over a year, but from the looks he got from a few thugs standing on a corner across from her door, the ex-gangster knew they had been attentive of the girl boxer.

"I haven't had it in two years," he replied finally, "I'm in the mood again. Plus this time we have real spices to cook with."

She grinned, "That's true. But back then we were willing to eat anything we could get our hands on. We were just lucky to cross stocked rivers."

Seeing her small smile woke his blood from his usually dullness. The last two years had been a complete bore of his normal routine: whores, fights, and alcohol. His hobbies had faded into a gray lack of fun and he had been desperate to get another thrill. He had turned back to stealing, thinking he needed a change of pace—even if the year before traveling the country side had been very different for him. It was good for a few months, but then he settled back into his itchy need to find some new game. But what could an ex-gangster find that he already hadn't look for?

Fuu glanced for the sixth time at her mirror. The car behind her had pulled out of the gas station next to the supermarket and had stayed with her since. It was a shiny black and she could see at least three people sitting in the car. They hardly appeared to be regulars of the ghetto.

Her fingers tightened on the wheel, praying Mugen didn't notice her nervousness. It was probably no one and she was just being paranoid, but to be on the safe side, she decided to take a new road to check. Without turning on her signal, the young girl took an immediate right. The black car quickly turned to followed ignoring the same need to turn on its red signal.

Mugen frowned and looked up at his chauffeur. He had only been in the car a handful of times since his release, but he knew they weren't going the right way home. "Forget something?"

"Yea," she mumbled, distracted. Her eyes were frantically reading the street signs looking for a possible escape route. She was definitely in hole if she didn't loose this car before they realized she knew who they were. Her sight widened on a particular name and she jerked the wheel hard left. Mugen crashed into his door and loudly cursed her.

"Get your seatbelt on!" she ordered, gunning the car as her followers turned.

Maybe he was against listening to her and the stupid safety instructors, but he knew when he was in the hands of a crazy driver. Scowling with distained, he clicked his seatbelt into place. "What's going on?"

"Someone's tailing me," she growled as she concentrated on the maze of back alleys she had turned into. "I think I can loose 'em—"

The words had barley left her mouth when the back windshield shattered. Sharp glass flew pass their faces and both threw up their arms. There was a strange collection of thuds hitting the back of their seats and then a hole broke through the front glass.

Fuu gasped and frantically took the next left. Wheels screeched and the glass slid along the dash as Mugen fought to stay upright in his seat. The back passenger window shattered during the sharp turn.

"Who 'da hell you piss off now?" he yelled as he pushed her head down.

"No one new," she confessed as she pressed down on the gas as hard as she dared. The alleys were very tight even for her little Honda. Plus the ninety degree turns weren't helping her escape.

Mugen stiffened, "The shogunate is still after you?"

Fuu nodded, "They never fulfilled their duty to kill my family tree so of course, they've come back. They just have had trouble finding me."

Another round of fire pounded in their ears and soon the entire front windshield shattered. Mugen hunched over next to her as he pushed her head even lower. "You still have your wimpy gun?"

"Well, I—" Fuu hesitated.

"Do you have it!" the man thundered as another round flew over their heads.

"The glove compart—"

A painful cry broke through her words as blood speckled the gray dash. Her hand dropped limp at her side and she struggled to keep the car under control. The poor Honda swerved dangerously in her hand and began scrapping along the brick wall in shower of orange sparks.

"Shit!" Mugen hissed as he clamped his hand over the hole in her bicep. Red was already seeping through her pale blue shirt sleeve. Fuu clenched her teeth together as tears streamed down her face. Mugen had taken several bullets with barely a grimace. He had made it look so painless, but a gunshot wound was hardly a mosquito bite.

Mugen growled as too much blood poured over his fingers. At this rate, she would black out in minutes. He hastily grabbed the hem of his shirt and tore of a strip. Fuu whimpered softly as he yanked a hard knot over the wound.

"Can you drive?" he yelled.

Her face was extremely pale, but she nodded.

Mugen dove for the glove compartment, yanking it open, and spilling out its contents. The most interesting thing to fall in his lap was surprisingly not the gun, but a New King James Bible. His eyebrows jumped at the sight of the holy book. Fuu must have started reading up on her father's religion. Shoving the book off his lap and onto the messy floor, the gangster grabbed the battered Raven Arms MP-25.

After checking the cartridge and finding it full, the gangster rolled down his window and waited for a break in the firing. Few seconds later he hung half his body out of the car and faced the shooter hanging out of his own window. Mugen carefully aimed for the other car's front right tire.

The first shot broke the headlight. Mugen angrily yelled the gun to be a stupid piece of weaponry and hastily fired a second time. The next bullet bounced off the hood and miraculously buried into the shooter's left temple. He quickly was lost under the tires when his companion pushed him out his limp body to take his place.

By this point, the gangster had gotten comfortable with the gun and finally got the bullet to break through the rubbery mass. Unfortunately, the shot did little damage and Mugen was forced to waste another bullet to blow the tire. The sound was like a bomb going off and the driver lost control. The black car rammed into the wall and scratched along the brick.

The ex-gangster hastily got back into his seat and noticed Fuu drooping against the wheel. Mugen frantically grabbed her shoulder and shook as he took a second look back at their pursuers. They were quickly gaining distance away from the shogun, but it wouldn't be long till they decided it was better to ruin the wheel than let their target escape.

"Stay awake you stupid, bitch," he growled as he grabbed for the wheel. Her fingers were beginning to slip off the dark leather when she noticed an approaching turn.

"L-Left, Mugen," she breathed.

Without question, the man pulled his leg over the emergency brake and pressed down on her foot. The car lurched forward and he spun the wheel throwing them into a jackknife. The right side of the car hit the wall, but bounced off easily and continued down the alley.

Fuu desperately tried to keep her eyes open. Mugen had no idea where they were and if she didn't get them to a safe spot they would both be dead. At that was something she couldn't allow after bailing out the man. "Left here."

Another couple of dangerous turns and suddenly they were passing through a narrow unmarked street that was lined with garage doors covered in colorful graffiti. Mugen stopped the car and hurried to shoot off the lock of one. He lucked out and found it to be empty except for a few boxes and a work table. It was only a few minutes before he had tucked the Honda inside and yanked the door back into place.

Mugen raced over to the driver's door. Loosing the support when he pulled it open, Fuu tumbled out in a dead bundle. He arms frantically rushed out to catch her, but unfortunately the fall jostled her arm and caused her to cry out.

The gangster cradled her carefully against his chest and intended to lay her on the concrete to get a better look at her arm. Seeing the oil stands, Mugen decided against it and lifted her up. Spotting the lamp on the work table, he hurried over and pushed the scattered tools to the floor. Fuu moaned softly and her eyes stared up at him through her lashes. His brow was pinched in concentration as he hunched over her and slowly undid the substitute bandage from her arm.

It was a clean shot straight through the muscle. Blood raced out of the hole and dribbled over her pale skin onto the metal table. She needed a doctor.

"Is your DNA on file?" he mumbled, scanning the tools hanging off the wall pegs.

Her eyes fluttered feebly, "File?"

"Did cops ever get your DNA on file?" he repeated sharply. His eyes stopped on a pair of pliers. "Your blood is all over the table and the floor. When the owner comes, he will report the break in and they're going to test the stains. It could lead the bloody shogunate to you one day."

"Bl-Blood samples," she slurred, her head sliding to the side.

"Hey!" he yelled, gently slapping either side of her face. "You need to stay awake."

Fuu jerked away from his palm, "Wanna sleep."

"Crows will get you if you fall asleep," he insisted darkly, pulling a torch out from under the work table.

Her brown eyes squinted up at his fuzzy face, "Crows?"

He nodded dumbly as he worked to light the torch, "When you die, you see crows."

"Die?" she yelped, suddenly wide awake.

"Just stay awake, stupid," he snapped as the blue flame roared to life. Fuu tensed, watching him pass the head of the pliers through the fire.

"What are you doing?"

Pulling the tool to his face, he began blowing on the hot metal. He pressed his fingers to double check the temperature and then turned expectantly to the bleeding girl. Fuu insistently recognized the displeased expression. Whatever was going on was making him very unhappy. His hand hastily clamped down on her elbow. Fuu flinched, her eyes wide in fear as she took in his dark determination. "Try not to scream."

Her fright flew into panicked and her breathing came out in frantic spurts. Mugen frowned. Pulling his hand off her, he grabbed the tattered end of his shirt and yanked another long strip. Her eyes lingered momentarily on his newly exposed hip, but soon darted up to the twisted cloth hovering over her face.

"Bite down on this," he instructed firmly as he pushed it pass her chapped lips. It smelt musky and her nose wrinkled in disgust. Her entire demeanor dropped in repeated fear as he returned his hand to her elbow. He inhaled deeply in preparation, "This is gunna hurt like hell, but don't pass out on me."

Looking straight in her eyes he asked the stupidest question ever. "Ready?"

She frantically shook her head, wanting to yell him to stop and bring her to a hospital. When she went to rip the cloth from her mouth, he quickly pushed down her arm with the hand clenching the pliers. Fuu frantically fought him, but after a short struggle the gangster hopped onto the table and straddled her waist. "The bullet has to come out, Fuu."

With tears clumping in her eyes, she shook her head again and mumbled something intangible. Mugen had a guess what she said, but frowned in answer to her muffled plea. "If we go to a doctor, they'll have to report the gunshot. You know that or else we would have gone to the hospital a hell of a lot more back then. Besides I doubt you have insurance."

His knee pressed into her elbows and carefully pushed the light closer to the wound. Fuu began to whimper as he pressed his free hand against the outer edge of the torn tissue and opened the hole a little wider. He could barely see light reflecting against the angry metal, but at least it was visible.

He gave her a warning look before driving the pliers directly into her tender flesh. Fuu's scream was fortunately a faint muffle, barely reaching the other side of the garage. The intrusive feeling of hard fingers digging into her skin was introducing to whole new level of pain. Even when she had been tied up in the abandoned church years ago, it hadn't felt like every nerve in her body was being snapped into two. She had the wind knocked out her and she had felt like she had been thrown through a brick wall, but it hadn't shaken her like she was tearing apart.

Mugen kept his entire attention on his work as he struggled to pinch down on the bullet. The pliers slipped several times, but on the fourth try he caught the bugger.

Fuu sobbed in relief when she saw the red pincher clutching the ugly piece of jagged metal. Oddly, he pocketed the bullet and threw down his little helper. It rattled across the floor as he tugged the shirt out of her mouth. Blackness tugged at the edge of her vision and she fought to get her tongue to work.

"Mu-ug-enn," she stumbled. The man dropped to the floor and a wave of coldness clutched her skin. At another time in the future, she knew she would savor the memory of his closeness, but for the moment, she needed to concentrate staying awake. Unfortunately, she was never much of a fighter like her father or Mugen.

Her eyes fluttered. The outlines of the room blurred and color no longer reached her head. She lolled to the side and closed for a fraction of a second just as she heard his angry voice yell her name. "Fuu, stay awake!"

Several men were blocking out the sun, their jagged silhouettes swaying. Her back ached against the hard ground and the pain of the gunshot raced through her.

"Mugen?" she called weakly, scanning each figure in turn. It was hard to read their features pass the blur. Her eyes squinted painfully and the shadows plaguing their bodies hardened into dark feathers clumped over the entirety of their limbs and heads. They were the twisted reflection of the grim reaper.

"Where am I?" she asked fearfully. Her eyes widened when she noticed dark birds passing overhead. "Mugen?"

_"Fuu!"_

"I don't want to die," she sobbed, looking for some response from the unknown figures. She began to shake as the flap of wings grew louder in her ears. There was cold feel of peace settling in her stomach and she began to float away.

_"You stupid bitch! Wake up!"_

Her eyes snapped open as his hand connected with her cheek. The dim garage came back to her as she glanced around with sharp relief. Easily finding his scowl amongst the familiar setting, the young girl smiled. "I thought I died there for a second."

His eyes rolled irritably. "You can't die from a damn gunshot to the arm. You just blacked out because of the f— blood loss."

Her smiled changed to a glare. "You can die from loosing too much blood, moron."

"Feh," he grumbled as he wrapped a new piece of shirt around her bleeding arm. They needed to sew it shut, but they couldn't return to her apartment. The shogunate was probably waiting for them. "Do you know of someone who the shogun wouldn't be able to connect you to?"

"No," she winced as he tied a double knot. "There's no one except my father's old friend."

He frowned at her and she shrugged. "I figured if I didn't make friends, it would be harder for them to find me. Somehow that didn't work so remind me later to be excessively nice to a few people in the future."

"We'll have to risk the chance and see him," he grumbled pulling her into his arms again. "There's less of a chance their waiting at his place. It will take a while before they can get reinforcements."

"Hey, Mugen," she whispered softly as he carried to her little blue car. "I think I saw the crows."


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Sorry about the wait. I moved over a week ago and having been very busy. I know this is short and I wanted it to be longer in exchange for my lengthy silence, but the chapter refuses to add anything further. Enjoy.  
_

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

**Chapter 3**

The key laughed loudly in his face as it refused to turn. Mugen growled and jiggled the devil for a fifth time, demanding it to listen to his command to open his way. Swearing a few color words, he shoved his shoulder into the olive green door. In the short span of seconds before his shoulder met the rough wood, an unheard click resonated in the lock and the gangster fell into the dim apartment. The ex-gangster's eyes panned over the ripped couch and simple round table in his view, searching for whoever had jerked caused the door to magically open. He glared with disgust when he noticed the innocent key was still dangling in the unlock position. "Damn key."

His arms jerked as he relocked the door and picked up his scattered purchases off the stained brown carpet. Mugen frowned when he noticed his roommate was also absent from the kitchen. His blood began to strum in anticipation as he checked for signs of intrusion. He wouldn't put it pass her to get kidnapped in her own apartment. She had the dumbest luck when it came to being captured. When they had traveled together, he had been forced to save her ass more than he could count—and that wasn't because he had failed to learn math.

None of the locks or windows appeared to be tampered with, but he still didn't see any sign of the girl. A creak in the hall snapped his head to the side. He scowled when a short, pudgy excuse for an animal trotted towards him. Momo, a shaggy mutt that had followed Fuu throughout her travel with him, rolled out his tongue and panted. Mugen snorted at the dog, knowing full well what he wanted. "Where's Fuu?"

Momo cocked his head, appearing to consider the question. "Is she in the back room?"

The mutt decided the question wasn't worth the nonverbal answer and trotted to the kitchen. Mugen rolled his eyes when the mutt pressed his paws against the side of the cabinets in a futile attempt to reach the bag of dry dog food. The ex-gangster was annoyed by being snubbed by a dumb animal, but he was relieved to see the mutt calm. It was sign that Fuu was safe. Momo was surprisingly a quiet dog, hardly ever barking except when his master was in danger.

Mugen looked towards the door at the end of the hall. Fuu probably was in her bedroom doing whatever girl's do. A wicked thought brought a smirk to his face. Perhaps she was dressing. Her closed bedroom door was a signal to keep him out. Two days ago he had accidentally walked in on her when she had returned from the shower. His eyes had gotten a full view of her matured body clad only in underwear for a long minute before she thrown half the room's contents at his head.

Grinning like a devil, the ex-gangster crept towards the door. Luckily, Momo had left the door opened by a small crack, giving Mugen the opportunity to sneak a peek in her room. As slid his back along the wall, he could hear her shuffling inside. His smiled disappeared when her gentle voice.

"Please, watch over us and protect us from the Shogun. Help me to be strong in this time of trial."

Mugen carefully leaned closer. Even though his view was limited, he didn't believe there was another occupant in her room, especially when he saw her kneeling beside her bed.

"Open my eyes to your guidance and guard my heart. Also, help me to be patient with the jerk, in Jesus' name. Amen." Smiling happily, Fuu opened her eyes and let the sunlight sink deep into her skin. Her fingers reached energetically for her Bible sprawled open on the red and pink comforter. Maybe it was the bright light streaming through her blinds or the warmth of contentment in her heat, but it looked like a great day. Yanking the bedroom door open, the young girl began to skip to a merry tune her mother had taught her. Fuu's voice immediately died when she got close to the kitchen and realized her roommate had returned.

"Hey, Mugen," she quickly slid her song into a cheerful greeting as she passed the man pouring dog food into Momo's dish. "Did shopping go well?"

"It sucked," he shrugged, "I really wanted to kick someone's ass."

Fuu rolled her eyes, "What if there were more than three this time? Like ten?"

Mugen leveled her with an angry glare causing the girl to exhale loudly. "You're not invincible so don't be so arrogant."

She coldly turned her back to him and began emptying the shopping bags covering the counter. Her eyebrow twitched as she noticed a playboy magazine near the bottom of the clear plastic. With a calm air, she clenched the magazine into a tight wall and spun around her heel. The unsuspecting ex-gangster didn't have the chance to escape the harsh blow to the back of his unguarded head. Momo barked angrily when Mugen's face throttled his bowl and threw his dry pebbles all across the faded linoleum floor.

Fuu ducked her smile behind her hand as she witness a very pissed off ex-gangster slowly rise with a growl. Unfortunately, the sight of dog food in between his canines forced the giggle into a full blown laugh that infuriated the man even more.

"Damn it, Fuu!" he spat out the offending pebbles. "What the hell was that?"

The colorful cover was immediately shoved forward and the ex-gangster's scowl formed a vicious smirk. He had forgotten about the purchase, but he had secretly hoped she would find it, just so he could see the fire spark in her brown eyes. "Jealous?"

Her face glowed red, "I said never to bring this garbage in my apartment!"

Mugen shrugged, "Feh, you did, but this isn't the same apartment."

"Don't give me that bull!" she snapped as she flicked on the gas stove, "You know very well that the rule applies here, too. If the stupid shogun hadn't found me a week ago then we wouldn't have moved."

Without another word, she let one of the magazine's corners dip into the small flame. As the fire began to eat the expensive pages, Fuu was surprised to hear a lack of fight from her roommate. She figured he was trying to get her to turn around for whatever reason so she waited for the fire to swallow most of the magazine before throwing it safely into the sink to finish off. Hand on her hip to emphasize her point, she whirled on the ex-gangster to see his head hiding behind one of the cabinet doors. "Mugen?"

Pulling out of hiding, he gripped a first aid kit. "We need to change your bandage."

She glanced down at her arm and saw only clean white gauze. "That's hardly necessary. It's been over a week."

"If you reopen it, which I believe you will, than it will be best if the gauze is fresh," he commented roughly as his tan hand lifted up her short sleeve.

Sighing softly, she allowed the man to tend her arm and did her best not to wince. In an attempt to ignore the pain, she concentrated on her dog licking up the dry pebbles. Mugen's eyes darted between the crudely stitched wound and the girl's profile. He should have been furious when she had destroyed his magazine. Maybe it had been money used to purchase it, but it still had been his. Instead, he had spotted the bandage peeking out beneath her sleeve and he had been driven to change it.

He blamed her innocence for his behavior. Whenever he saw the bandage he cringed in disgust because it appeared like black muck on a pure white sheet. It was eased the twist in his stomach whenever he changed the bandage. He wasn't sure why and he didn't care to figure out. It was better not to know.

Once he finished wrapping her arm, he hastily stepped back, acting as if she had burned him. Fuu gave him a skeptical look before returning back to the plastic bags. His chest began to heave as she leaned forward exposing the pale incline of her neck to his hungry eyes. It had been months since he had felt the soft skin of wench and he had been growing edgy being in close quarters with the girl. He had tried several times to escape the apartment to search out a partner, but she had been adamant he stay hidden behind the apartment walls. If the shogun in less than three days since she released him from jail, then it was likely they were watching for him at the whore houses as way to find her.

He took a tentative step towards her, telling himself she owed him for his short term celibacy. More so, he told himself his attraction to her was because of the celibacy as his inability to dose the fire burning in him.

He grinned devilishly when he grazed his eyes over her newly matured body. She had filled out in all the right places in the last two years. Even if he couldn't meet up with a wench, he had a savory alternative.

Fuu stiffened when she suddenly felt his body heat brush her back. First, he had tended her wound, and then jerked away like she had the plague. Now he was coming up behind her. What was he thinking? When his thumb slip the belt loop of her jeans and his fingers clenched her thigh, she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"M-Mugen?" she choked as his hot chest pressed against her back. His other hand swept up beneath the bottom hem of her lavender shirt and caressed a random pattern over her belly. It immediately sent a dangerous warmth through her blood. "Mugen, stop."

His nose brushed her collarbone. He hated being so slow. Normally, he was wild with his wenches, ignoring all their pleas and moans, and listening only to his pants. If he wasn't careful with her, however, it was likely he would loose all chance of getting his desires fulfilled.

Fuu's eyes slid close as his rough lips kissed her neck, but instantly snapped back open. She firmly pushed his hands away. "I said **stop**."

There a few seconds of hesitation before his hands returned, tighter.

"I don't think you mean it," he growled softly as he began to nibble her neck. He was surprised to find the taste of her skin addictively refreshing like the first beer after an exhausting day. He was used to a wench's flavor of cigarette smoke and overpowering perfume. He never thought the smell of soap and flowers would be so delicious to his senses.

"Well, you're an idiot!" she snapped as she shoved him off. Facing him, she squared her shoulders for the expected storm to follow. Mugen blinked back the haze in his head as focused on the pissed off face glaring at him. "You aren't getting any from me."

"Why not?" he raged.

"I don't believe in that," she stated firmly.

Mugen jerked, "Believe? What's there to believe? You either f— or don't f—!"

She nibbled nervously on her lower lip, "It's a sin to sleep around before marriage."

"That's bullshit!" he rumbled, stalking forward. Fuu hastily stepped backwards out of the kitchen giving her the needed room to escape his wandering hands.

"No!" she replied angrily, "It's called morality. You might think nothing of morality, but I do!"

She hurried to place the couch between her and the ex-gangster. Fuu quickly realized her mistake when Mugen stepped in front of the hallway. The only other exit was the front door and that was hardly an option with the shogun out roaming for her. At least in her room she could lock the man out.

Mugen couldn't get the taste of her off his tongue. He tried to reason with his darker part of his hollow soul to stop advancing. She was still very young and innocent, the main reason he had never jumped her bones years ago. She had been a younger sister to him (gullible and annoying as hell), but it was harder to remember as he examined her curves. So, he did what he normally did, followed his instincts.

In a flash, he had leapt clean over the couch and tackled her to the floor. She tried to scramble out from under him, but he pinned her, straddling her waist. A flash of recognition washed over her as his knees quickly pinned down her arms like back in the garage a week ago. Her brown eyes were wide as she fruitlessly tried to push her head further into the carpet. Mugen studied her anxious face for a few seconds as nameless emotions raced through him. Stomping down on the feelings, he leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips with hers.

Her lips were soft just as he thought they were and had the faint taste of mint left from, what he suspected, as her toothpaste. The kiss was wild, exactly like him, and he was shocked when she gave little effort to escape him. In fact, she gave a faint moan of pleasure. Somehow, the gentle noise clicked a lever into place in his head and the kiss slowed. He growled his approval as she moved with him and he hungrily tried to deepen the dance of their lips.

As he began to coax her lips open, Fuu abruptly jerked her head to the side, escaping him. Mugen panted loudly as he studied the girl. Her swollen lips were tempting to his eyes, but his body refused to move. "What?"

Her eyes clenched shut, "Please, stop, Mugen."

She sounded hurt and he glanced down at his knee to make sure he hadn't roughed up her wound. Luckily, his knee hadn't come close. He returned his gaze to her face and flinched when he saw tears marring her pale cheeks. "Fuu."

"I know you've done a lot of things in your life," she mumbled, eyes still close. "But I don't believe you would ever rape me."

That was enough to get him off her. He was suddenly across the room, back to her, as his hands raked his unruly hair. That one word was like a brick in his stomach. In all the dark things he had done in his life, he had never felt guilt raid his thoughts. It was new to him and it frightened him.

"Mugen?"

He couldn't stand the stuffy air of the apartment anymore. His chest was heaving as if he couldn't breathe and knew it was dangerous to stay. Without a word, he snatched his keys from the kitchen and made for the door. Fuu hastily stepped in front of his exit.

"Move," he hissed, eyes dark like a raging ocean.

Fuu shook her head. "You're angry."

"Hell yes!" he thundered. How dare she act so calm when everything had exploded into a thousand pieces?

"Mugen, please," she whimpered as he shoved her aside. She barely brushed the wall as the door was flung open. She tried to stop it from closing, but the brass knob slipped from her fingers and the door cracked loudly as it hit the frame. Her fingers splayed over the hard wood and leaned her forehead against it cold surface. She cried softly as he heard his muffle footsteps race down the stairwell.


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN: Might be a little confusing towards the end, but I hope you understand._  
**

* * *

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

** Chapter 4**

* * *

Carefully cupping her hand around the small flame, she lowered the match to the candle's wick. The tiny flame flickered as it latched onto the short candle and Fuu smiled wearily at the sight. Snuffing out the match and tossing it aside, the girl stared at her candle amongst the dozens. It wasn't often she was able to come by, but when she did she always enjoyed the number of small flames flickering in the shadows of the church. Tonight, however, she felt very empty. 

For over two hours, she had been searching for him. She didn't care if he would scold her. She would never have lived with herself if she hadn't tried. Maybe she had given him the option of leaving whenever he wanted, but if he left after what happened she would…die. So she had pulled on one of her three disguises and grabbed an umbrella. With her heavy jean jacket, flannel shirt, and baggy jeans was prefect to pass her off as a juvenile. Add her hair tucked up under a Yankee's cap and she was easily assumed to be teenage boy. Lucky for her, tonight's downpour gave the excuse to hide beneath the hood of her raincoat and totally disappear on the street.

Her feet dragged along the carpet and she slid into one of the hundred pews lining the sanctuary. Kneeling, her rain jacket squeaked loudly. She clasped her hands together and stared up at the crucifix of Jesus Christ on a nearby wall. Eyelids slid close and she inhaled softly.

_'Dear God, please be with him in this trial. I know what I said was hard for him, but please help him to see the truth behind it.'_

Fuu caught the sound of beads knocking together as a nun hastily raced by, but she ignored the disruption. _'Please, bring him back to me safe and sound.'_

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she barely caught the question as the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

_'And please, get me home safe. In Jesus' name, Amen.'_

Swallowing nervously, she carefully turned her head, making sure to keep her face forward as much as possible. There were three men at the front, all in suits and trenches. Slowly, she tore her eyes away and silently told herself to stay calm. It wasn't likely the men were here for eleven pm confessions. One maybe, but definitely not three. It was the Shogun.

Her eyes darted at the viewable exits and hurried to list her options. (1) She could try passing the men and pray they didn't recognize her. It was far from plausible. They would make sure to check who she was, even if it was a side glance, and with the presume training they were given, they wouldn't mistaken who she was. (2) Hide in the confession box and hope they leave. If she moved for the box, it would tip them off. She would be suspected and then she would be corner. Her best chance was option number three: make for the back door and haul rear. She hoped to God that the Shogun had been stupid and forgot to place anyone at the back in case of escape.

When she heard several pairs of feet growing louder, she knew she had to take a chance. She did her best to appear calm as she slid out of the pew with her back to the group. Carefully pacing her steps, she aimed for the door passed the confessional. It was blessing that the two were so close it gave it a few more seconds before the realized her destination.

_Five steps left…_

_Four…_

_Three…_

_Two…_

She heard men's voice conversing and she unconsciously sped up.

_One…_

"Hey, you!"

**_RUN!_**

She had already yanked the door open when everyone began shouting and feet pounded.

"Target has been found! Target has been found!"

"You can't have a gun here! This is a church!"

"Jared, she's going out the back!"

When she slammed the door close, she caught the terrifying glimpse of the men pointing three black handguns at her and the nun calling for help. She bit down on her tongue when she noticed the door didn't own a lock. If there was a time she wanted to curse it was at that moment. Her eyes darted over the pile of colorful crafts on a small table in the narrow corridor.

"Sorry, kids," Fuu mumbled as she yanked the table out of place and knocked the crafts onto the floor. Flipping over the furniture, she jammed the edge under the door knob and kicked the carpet end of the table as hard as possible to wedge it tight. Turning on her heel, she did a mad dash for the back door. Maybe Jason-whoever wouldn't make it before her. She heard the men begin to ram their shoulders into the door. The green exit hovered like a beacon in a storm as she raced pass several doors, ignoring the looks she was receiving through the glass windows of the back offices. _'If Mugen wasn't going to yell at me for being out tonight, than he definitely will now.'_

One of the offices ahead opened and the girl made a crazy sideways pass, nearly knocking the elderly priest to his knees.

"Sorry!" she yelled as she scrambled for her balance. _'Little farther.'_

Her heart dropped to her feet when her exit was flung open and another man in a dark trench stepped through. She immediately spun on her heel and doubled back. She believed she had seen a sign for a staircase.

"STOP!"

_Yea, like I would listen!'_

She must have still jostled the priest because he was kneeling on the floor. As he began to rise, Fuu did no hands leap frog over him and accidentally hit her heel against on the wall. She tumbled forward, but rolled onto her feet and pushed back up without loosing any ground between her and the flunky. Her eyes had barely landed on the sign of her salvation when the door leading into the sanctuary was broken a foot out of its frame. Swinging her exit open, the men began to claw through the splintered wood.

_'Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap…'_ she grumbled as she took the stairs two at a time. Bad luck had reared its ugly head in the form of a stairwell with an open center, the perfect opportunity to shot at her from a lower level. Making the third landing, she heard the door below slam against the wall. She was halfway up to the fourth landing when the first expected shot hit the railing a foot ahead of her. The wood splintered in her face and she made a critical mistake of throwing up her arms and hesitating on the stairs. Realizing her error, she dove simultaneously as another gunshot sounded. Her hat felt like it was ripped from her crown and her eyes widened as it flew up several steps. Even though her inner voice yelled to leave it, she grabbed the dark cap as she passed.

Finally reaching the exit with the bright red number two on its pale wood, she rammed her shoulder into the handless door as a new round clipped the wall behind her. Stumbling into the huge room, she discovered a dark library. The air was stale and hot, but she didn't really have time to notice something so trivial. Looking in either direction, she realized there were no other doors.

"Crap!" she hissed. There were several windows on the far end of the library, but she was several stories high. The angry voices in the stairwell quickly overthrew her rational thinking, and she dashed down the main aisle. Her second round of bad luck manifested in nailed down window panes. Her small fingers pressed hard into frame as she began to yank desperately. "Please, open!"

Frightened tears spilled when the cold reality of the window never opening settled in her brain. She glanced at the door behind her and noticed a shadow. Promising to return later with cash, the young woman grabbed a nearby chair and swung. Glass shattered and her chasers rushed in. Dropping the chair, Fuu made a rash decision and pushed her petite body through the broken glass without ever checking what lied below.

_'Save me, God.'_

The wind whipped pass her ears as she fell, but she heard the loud curses echo through the library. Fuu was washed with relief when she saw a full dumpster laid beneath her. In midair, she flipped head-over-heels and roughly landed on her back.

The air was knocked out of her, but she couldn't slow down. She had to get out of the stench. Grabbing the slippery edge of the green metal, she crawled over the edge and fell on her rear directly into a muddy puddle. Her nose wrinkled in disgust when she saw the garbage clinging all over her clothes. She would have to burn the outfit. Seeing a dark head appear in the middle of the broken window immediately got her to her feet and forgetting her ruin clothes. Several bullets hit the pavement, one scrapping her cheek, but she made it around the corner with her life still intact. It was only God's hands that had saved her that night.

_'You're not out yet,'_ she yelled inwardly when she rounded the corner and recognized a familiar black vehicle. Two men were racing towards her, probably having been tipped off through the walkie-talkies.

Another irrational choice took over her brain and the girl leapt into the busy street. Crossing a busy four-lane in the rain was definitely on her list of stupid things not to do. She passed the first lane easily because of the lack of traffic, but the second lane was flying with vehicles. Glancing back she saw the glint of metal at leapt in front of a truck, maybe an F-150. Fuu kept her eyes on the double yellow line when she heard the squeal of tires and a loud horn. Her tennies slipped on the pavement and she crashed to the ground. She didn't even realize she had fallen into the next lane until a light had slid over her and a new horn blared.

_'Trust your instincts.'_ That's what her father had taught her when she had learned to box so she followed his advice and rolled to the white line. The air whistled loudly in her ears and she lost count of how many cars passed her. She needed to catch her breath and with the traffic she guessed it was the best chance as any. The Shogun would be foolish to try and shoot her with so many people in the way. They were a secret organization who was still trying to stay off the radar. If they accidentally killed the wrong person, the newspapers would have a field day.

The rain seeped in through the front of her shirt and with the whistling wind, the coldness reached to the deepest marrow of her bone. Her teeth were chattering, but she believed it was more from raw fear than the weather.

Fuu anxiously looked back at the sidewalk between the racing tires. With the rain, it was difficult to be certain, but she could have sworn she had seen one of the men lying down on the concrete. She was up in a heartbeat. They were going to dare blowing out someone's tire.

Fuu was forced to wait for two cars to pass before she could cross the last lane, but when she did she wanted to scream in relief. Pulling her cap lower on her face, she sprinted pass a group of drug dealers and ducked down an alley. It wasn't until she had gone through fifteen minutes of turns and climbing a number of fences before she felt safe again to walk.

Her chest heaved as she bent over to catch her breath. _'If I had been lucky enough to go high school, I should have tried for track.'_

She was six blocks away from home with several bars and clubs in between. After tonight she wanted nothing else to grab Momo and hide under her bed, but… She couldn't forget the look in his eyes from hours ago. Even when he nearly died that one time, his eyes had never held the fear she had seen. It frightened her beyond logical thought.

_'That's it I claim insanity later when he's furious.'_

The woman's heart shuddered when she thought about what would happen when she found him. Sighing deeply, she told herself that if she was lost out there Mugen would come after her. Course, he would say he was immortal. She smirked. She would have to tell him later that she was immortal, too.

Yep, this would make the list of stupid things to do. _Never go searching for someone after being attacked by dangerous men._

She would only check the places on the way. Quick scan and then out. If she lagged the Shogun would find her. She might still want to look for the idiot, but she was too shaken up and hardly stupid to be thorough tonight.

* * *

One o'clock in the morning. That was hardly her normal bedtime and she was ragged. For all her effort she deserved donuts, chocolate filled ones. 

Her key for once didn't give her grief and she slowly opened the door. She froze when saw his slump form on the couch. She blinked rapidly and wondered if she closed and reopened the door would he still be there. "Mugen?"

"Where have you been?" he grumbled, glaring up at her through his wet messy hair.

"Where have I been?" she snapped, "Where the heck have you've been? I tore eight blocks for you."

"Don't give me that shit!" he shouted, jumping up from his seat. "You shouldn't have been out!"

"Bull!" she yelled back, "You left and I didn't know where or if you would be back."

His nose wrinkled, "Where'd you look? A dumpster?"

"Uhh… I fell," she mumbled.

Mugen wasn't the brightest bulb, but he was hardly swallowing that lie. "Fell? Into a landfill?"

She waved her hand frantically in his face, "Whatever. That doesn't matter. Where were you?"

His eyes darkened, "I asked first!"

"Dang it, Mugen! I've been out in the rain after your sorry rear. I deserve an answer."

"Like hell!" he roared.

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from the stairwell below. "Shut the f—up! It's f— one in the morning!"

Fuu rolled her eyes, seeing she had accidentally left the door open. She hurried to shut the door before shouting a weak, "Sorry!"

Whirling around, she came nose to nose with a very pissed off ex-gangster. She automatically pressed herself against the door. His eyes were staring intently at her face—no, her head? Slowly he pulled the cap from her head and stared.

_'Crap!'_

His voice was probably the coldest she had heard in a long time, "This is a f—gunshot hole."

Fuu bit her lip, "That's old."

"You're a shitty liar, girl," he hissed, "Don't yank me."

Her shoulders dropped and she hung her head. He could always make her feel like such a fool. "Ran into some trouble."

"Exactly what kind of trouble?"

She grabbed her cap from his tight fist, "I was in a church. They followed me in. Had to escape through a third story window. Fell into a dumpster."

She tried to brush pass him, but he grabbed her elbow and shoved her back against the door. Her eyes were set firmly on her hands as he began to yell, "You stupid girl! You could be lying dead in that dumpster right now with rats chewing on you!"

"I had to find you," she whispered.

"Shit, Fuu! That's not how it works!"

Her eyes snapped up, "Then how does it work?"

He groaned in exasperation, "Don't f—start."

"You pulled through a lot for me," she insisted, glaring back. "You nearly died for me. I deserve to die for you."

"Shut up," his jaw was tight as he shoved back and walked towards the kitchen, tossing the cap onto to the couch as he went. Fuu blinked in surprise at his quick dismissal. Normally, it was about arguing and pissing each other off. He gave up hardly before they got started.

She marched straight into the kitchen and saw him digging through the frig, "Okay. You don't want to talk about that. Then, how about what happened earlier? I apologize if I offended you."

"Feh," he pulled out with a chosen can of soda. He would have preferred a beer after such a crappy night, but that was another forbidden item of hers. Maybe he would buy a pack later and see what she would do.

"Don't give me that," she cried with fists at her side. "You were pissed off at me."

He downed half the soda and grimaced. The bite of carbonation was hardly fitting tonight. His eyes rolled lazily to her, "It wasn't you."

Fuu's eyebrows rose, "Huh?"

He took another sip and walked straight out. She followed close behind.

"What's that mean, Mugen?" she asked firmly. The ex-gangster continued down the hall in silence. She was beginning to loose her temper with the evasive moron. "Mugen!"

"What?" he drawled, striding into the bathroom and yanking off his shirt.

Fuu blushed brightly at the show of his tan skin and hurried to divert her eyes. "Put your shirt back on."

"Why?" he smirked, looking over his shoulder at her. "Scared? Worried I'll try and rape you?"

That quickly shoved her embarrassment out and pushed in cold fury, "You know that's not why?"

"Disgust then?" he snipped, turning fully around. Unconsciously, her eyes dropped and found the scars she wanted to forget. He had suffered a lot to save her that time. She had stitched him up pretty well, but the white lines from blades and small stars from bullets were still there. Her eyes watered as she counted the scars. Each one seemed to be her name written in his flesh.

Mugen was thrown off balanced when the girl burst into tears. She fell forward, wrapping her arms in a loose hug around his torso. She knew tears weren't his scene, but she couldn't express the hurt she felt without them. She didn't ask for a hug. No, he didn't understand the action. He understood screwing and groping, but a hug was affection he could never accept after years of childhood torment. It was stupid. It was corny.

That was exactly what the ex-gangster was thinking staring down at the top her head. He had hope she would fight with him some more and put everything back to the way it had been before. Instead, she had become a puddle against his chest, mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over?

There was a flashback of the time before he knew her, when another girl had laid her head against his chest. Both incidents were similar and different. Kohza had wanted to run away, but he wasn't one to run. He fought for what he wanted. He fought to be stronger than anyone. There wasn't anything else he needed. When she had begged him to run with her, she had been stupid to believe he would run. He had considered the opportunity of having a wench on a regular basis, but he knew she wanted a man unlike the ones she had been raised around. She wanted a dream, something unreachable like the stars they had stared at that night. She just wanted to ignore the shit that they had dragged through all their lives and pretend it didn't exist, but he couldn't forget it. He couldn't let go of the images burned in his brain.

There was no such thing as love or peace. There was always some form of hate slithering through the world and tainting everything. You could try to believe in a paradise somewhere far away, but in the end you were just playing pretend. Sooner or later the flower wilts and reveals the rotting carcass. You die and the crows come down to eat the flesh. There was no light in this world to find. All you had was yourself.

There was no chance at making the world better, or pretending there was some better place. People would forever screw up this world and he had accepted that. His skin had thickened and the world around him would slip off like liquid. He played with the time he had and did what he wanted. It was the only way he felt alive.

That's why the girl hugging him at this moment confused him. There was something deep inside of him he didn't understand because of her. He had spent the last hours trying to figure it out, but he was still very lost.

'_But I don't believe you would ever rape me.'_

Why did it hurt to hear something like that?


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Just wanted to say my profile on is updated. Go read about possible new stories and let me know about your thoughts on my LJ._**  
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**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

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** Chapter 5**

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Taking a drag on his cigarette, Mugen waited for the two cars to pass so he could cross the street. By the time the second car had driven by, he had finished the cig and tossed it into a drain. The smoke curled deliciously off his tongue and faded off into the air. Shoving his hands into his jacket, he strolled across the blacktop to the apartment complex. Fuu wouldn't allow smoke in _her_ apartment so he had been forced outside.

As he crossed, he checked the street for spectators. It was still early so the main folk in the neighborhood hadn't poured out yet, but that wasn't who he was checking for. There was a dark '86 Buick up the block, but he knew a drug dealer owned it. He had tried to sell him a few packs. If Fuu hadn't had kept the money so well hidden he might have indulged in a familiar nickel pack. As he told her before, prison didn't reform him. He was just keeping low for her ass.

Maybe there was no verbal agreement about their living situation, but it didn't need to be said. While he was staying with her, he was going to be her bodyguard again.

His eyes swept the opposite direction and narrowed on a pair of young boys trying to execute outrageous skateboard tricks. He laughed lightly when one was straddling a rail and lost his ride. Across the street from the preteens, was the lamppost the girls huddled for business. During this time of day, they were hanging closer to the main street which was ten blocks uptown. The only time to would find a worthy buyer in this part of the slums was after sunset when punk gang members were circling their territories.

Satisfied there wasn't anyone around, Mugen ducked into the apartment building. He didn't even slow down as reached the mailboxes along the wall. This was the third place they had rented, and only her old man's friend knew of their location. Mugen had yet to meet the mystery man, but he didn't care. Uncle Zuikou as she referred to him placed all the arrangements for their housing, signing leases and down payments. The two met weekly at a ratty bar twenty miles outside of town, too far for Shogun scouts to check, to take care of any details. If they every needed to meet sooner than the regular visit to the Orange Tree, then she would call the man's private cell and leave a simple message: _'Where are you, Bud?'_

The simple signal translated to _'Midnight behind his office'_. His wife was forced to know of their innocent relationship so not to tarnish their marriage, but their children were ignorant of Fuu and their father's dealings. This way he could slip out with little incident and act like he forgot something at the office, his training facility for boxers.

They had been lucky and had only used the signal twice in the last few months, but if she ever needed immediate help, they would resort to a final password. The last resort was to call his cell and give a time, place, and short explanation. To prove it was her she would mention sunflowers in her message.

It had been her mother's favorite flower. The fragrance could always stir memories of life when she was a child, the only time she had known her father before his last day. The smell was what connected her father to happy memories. He had always smelled of sunflowers.

Relocking the door behind him, Mugen found Fuu curled on the couch with Momo tucked up against her stomach. He glanced at the blanket that must have slipped off the pair and onto the floor, and debated whether to replace it. Snorting softly, he decided against the affectionate action, claiming she could do it herself. He was about to step away from the couch when a second thought hit him. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the small throw and covered the girl. The mutt opened its eyes as the blanket floated down, but quickly went back to sleep.

_She would never know he had replaced the blanket. _

When his hands curled off the blanket, the man noticed her Bible lying open on the floor. He surprised to find himself drawn to the discarded volume. He was never one for religion. To him, it was a weakness. People created gods, goddesses, and doctrine as a way of dealing with the crap of life. When life got rough, spiritualism sprang up to give focus and guidance, although it was all make-believe from some creative individual.

Slowly the Bible was lifted, and he glanced at the small print with curiosity. Normally, he would just brush the doctrine off, but the way her father had been so brutally killed for his faith interested the ex-gangster. Martyrs were rare to find in the present-day America. Everyone fought for equality and freedom of religion. Christianity had been frowned upon for years because of their strict censorship of beliefs, but he had never heard of anyone inside the states being killed for believing in it. Sitting down on the floor with his back to the armrest, the ex-gangster scanned the open page.

_**GOD is our refuge and strength,**_

_**A very present help in trouble.**_

_**There fore we will not fear,**_

_**Even though the earth be removed,**_

_**And though the mountains be carried **_

_**Into the midst of the sea;**_

_**Though its waters roar and be troubled,**_

_**Though the mountains shake with its swelling.**_

_**Psalm 46:1-3**_

Mugen frowned lightly and reread the short passage. The grammar was a bit confusing for his intermediate reading. Luckily, he knew enough to comprehend the passage was one to console people when they were afraid. _'Stupid people can't even stand on their own feet so they got to make up a God to lean on. Bullshit.'_

Bored with the passage, he flipped over several pages and noticed the writing had transformed from black to red. Curious, he began to read.

_**"So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened."**_

_**Luke 11:9-10**_

"Okay, so all I got to do is ask?" he chuckled lightly, "Then I want to be the strongest man alive."

"Don't make fun of God."

Mugen hastily slammed the book close and whirled around to see a pair of sleepy eyes looking at him. "Awake, ugly?"

Fuu rolled her eyes, "Yea, moron."

Yawning, she brought her hand over her mouth and stretched. His eyes were drawn to her petite frame and watched the cover slip off, revealing delicious curves. Her bare feet slid off and onto the floor while she lifted her arms over her head. She moaned softly as her neck cracked. Mugen throat tightened at the sound and he unconsciously leaned towards her. Her eyes were beginning to open and her head swiveled towards in his direction, but he hastily drew back. She was too close to him.

Fuu stared at him with a sad smile and innocently reached for the Bible. The gangster silently sucked in deep breath as her slim arm passed over his shoulder. The book easily slid from his tan fingers and relief washed over him once she had fallen back against the couch. He frowned when saw her forlorn expression. "Fuu?"

"This is the only the item he left me," she mumbled, opening to the back of the front cover. She tenderly pressed her fingertips to his signature. "The man who had taken care of him before he died gave it to me the day we all separated. It was his only possession."

Her eyes lifted to the small passage her father had written above his signature. It was dated the week he had left her and her mother. Even though it brought a painful tightness to her chest, she had read the note many times since she had received the Bible.

**_I do this for You, Lord. You said 'Take up your cross and follow' and I will. My only regret is that she would not come with me and because of that I feel a sense of loss as I leave the home I had built with my bare hands. My world has been in that home for the last five years, but now You become my home. You give me strength to move forward and I shall pray forever for the two ladies I leave behind. I do this for You and Your Will. I know my decision to protect my Christian family will bring many to You, and that I know is worth every homesick tear I cry. _**

A wet spot splattered on her knuckle, but she ignored it, "He gave me up for something he believed in. I'm curious to see what it was that he believed in so deeply that he would leave behind the life he cherished."

She was startled when he ripped the bible from her hands. He quickly read her father's message, frowning as his dark eyes followed the chicken scratch. When he finished, he flipped the book closed and tossed it to the floor at her feet. Fuu looked up and watched him stare at the dark cover.

"It's a crock," he stated coldly. "Just another dumb religion so people have something to live for."

She was little shocked, but not completely surprised he had said it. Mugen wasn't a spiritual man. She had known that for a long time. "I think you're wrong."

His dark eyes shifted towards her and Fuu added firmly, "Just because you don't want to believe in something other than physical strength because it could make you weak, doesn't make it any less real."

The ex-gangster blinked in disbelief as Fuu leaned over and tenderly lifted the bible to her chest. With slumped shoulders, the girl walked towards her room, keeping her eyes low as she passed the man. Momo whimpered lightly and hurried after his master.

Mugen stood silently in the dim living room, trying to figure out how she was so perceptive. She was young and gullible, but when it came to reading people she was on a level that was scary. It took him a long time to realize her gift. She had been so irritably dramatic when they had first met that he had written her off as an airhead. The day he recognized brain activity was the day she had told him Jin's glasses were fake. She had revealed her ability to read people. Unfortunately, shortly after his discovery their journey had ended and they had separated for what was believed forever.

He had thought about her for a long time, trying to unravel exactly who she was from their experiences together. Normally, he could care less what made up a person. His entire drive in life was to be stronger; if he knew he could beat the person then there was no point in figuring them out. She was the first person that challenged that lifestyle.

Standing motionlessly in the living room, the ex-gangster wondered how he had grown weak in the last two years.

* * *

She smiled wistfully as the faint organ music drifted up into the balcony. Mugen glanced at her skeptically, studying her profile covered in shadows, and fidgeted restlessly. He still couldn't understand why she had been so adamant to come to the church. They could have just listened to the service on the radio. He would have preferred to stay at the apartment then listen to touchy-feely songs and suffocating walls. Unfortunately, she decided she would go regardless if he came with her and because of that he knew there weren't any options. He would be pissed beyond words if she went off and died after all he had sacrificed to protect her sorry ass.

They had easily avoided the populace and entered the church through a back door. Everyone was too busy welcoming visit through the front doors to notice the pair slip up the stairs towards the balcony room used for storage. As an extra precaution, they crawled to the balcony's rail to keep out of sight. Fuu was worried someone might see the motion.

After the fifth song, a lengthy prayer, and offering plates passed down the pews, a balding man in a pressed suit stepped up to the podium. Sprawled out on his back, Mugen yawned too loudly for Fuu's liking so she slapped him in the back of the head. The ex-gangster went to curse her out, but hastily covered his mouth before the foul language could escape into the open sanctuary.

"Shut up!" she hissed lowly, "You're in a freaking church!"

"I wasn't the one who wanted to come," he growled back. Surprisingly, he didn't challenge her by raising his voice above a whisper. He didn't want another lump on his head.

For the rest of the service, he was quiet. He wasn't really listening to the sermon, he was actually distracted by the boxes and furniture piled in the small back room. There were old hymns and bibles in one stack and a handful of dusty instruments pass some ragged couches. There was even a grand piano with torn up keys. The robber side of him was counting the dollars the stuff was worth and wondering why the stuff hadn't been pawned to refurbish the balcony with pews. Unfortunately, his counting got stuck a particular high number due to his lack of education. Finding nothing else of interest, the man's ears involuntarily tuned back to the preacher's deep voice, "…love amongst most couple nowadays is fleeting and selfish…"

His eyes slowly drifted to the pale profile of the young girl next to him.

"…filled with lust and immortality…"

He carefully studied her content expression.

"…There is another love spoken about in 1st Corinthians. A deep and powerful love that 'never fails' and 'endures' through the trials we often give up on. It is a love we have failed to show our children with divorce and infidelity…"

His heart grew heavy the more he listened to the man and watched the young woman listen attentively. Love was a word he didn't favor to have in his vocabulary. It was insubstantial like the gods and goddesses made up in religions. To hear the man speaking of it as a physical force was making him look over at the person who believed in the word. If love could be given physical attributes, he would have to define it as unblemished and clear…maybe a substance that is unaffected by the taint of its surroundings. So as he studied the woman next to him, he couldn't help, but think she somehow embodied the fantasy.

She was still innocent after walking through the disgusting muck of the world. After seeing everything she had on their journey, a child would have broken, but she didn't. She instead had grown more mature and pushed her hopes further against the envelope. She wouldn't allow her experiences ruin the clean, pureness of her heart. Maybe there was a lace of sadness in her eyes, but she always found a way to smile and press on.

She was an enigma to him. He had lived in a dark part of the world most of his youth. He watched one person after another be condemned to the dark sins unable to fight reality: there was no prize for saints. That's why she annoyed him. She insisted living for morals that were pointless in his eyes. He had lived his entire life searching for entertainment, the only purpose left in his soul. He had no regrets.

Yet, when he looked at her face, he decided he didn't like the idea of her following him down that path. He suppose that's why, after futile attempts to escape, he protected her. He wanted her to make it to the end without letting go of those stupid morals. He wanted her to believe in the fantasy because it gave her a reason to smile.

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**_A/N: I would like to make clear that I am a believing Christian and am not mocking the Christian faith in this chapter. I am instead trying to explain the two points of view of the characters with this chapter. I hope no one was offended, but if you were than I apologize._**


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Next update will sadly be a longer wait than normal. This weekend I'm in a wedding and so I plan to be taking care of ceremony details and having a good time with the bride and bridesmaids._

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**Through Smudged Glass**

**By anglewings1**

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**Chapter 6**

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Mugen shifted restlessly in the faded red booth. His eyes constantly moved over the occupants of the smoky bar. He didn't care what Fuu said, he didn't like the way the bartender kept looking at him. Fuu scolded him for being paranoid, telling him offhandedly that a bartender recognizes them because she was always here at the Orange Tree on Friday evenings. The ex-gangster snorted and discreetly palmed his Walther P99 semiautomatic pistol under his jean jacket.

He had lost his Browning 9 millimeter at the end of journey last year. He still couldn't figure out how the stupid gun had mysteriously exploded in his hands, but he had lucked out when four-eye's gun jammed and also became unusable during their dual. The Walther P99 was faster than his old weapon, but it was hard to prefer the harder-cut weapon when he had carried his Browning 9 for most of his life. He was lucky he was able to retrieve the P99 after being imprison, another benefit of bribing an official. It was easier to get around the red tape.

Leaning back with his arms sprawled on the round headrest, Mugen grumbled irritably. "Does he always take this long?"

Fuu stiffly rested her elbows on the table. "We're early."

"Early?" he grunted. "Why the hell you rushed me out here, then?"

The young woman smiled enthusiastically to her companion, almost bouncing in her seat, as their waitress sauntered over. The tall woman flipped a lock of curly strawberry blonde hair behind her ear with white hoops and grinned slyly, "Hey, Fuu. How's it running?"

"Hard and Fast, Roxy!" the boxer laughed from under her holy Yankee cap. Mugen's face scrunched at the duo. The waitress's scratchy voice irritated his eardrums and he made sure to keep his comment breathy when he mentioned her lack of desperately needed makeup. The ex-gangster jumped when the woman next to him ram her heel into his toes. He returned her overly sweet, pointed look with a heated glare.

Shifting away with a small huff, Mugen faced the opposite direction of the bar and studied a group of men howling over the football game playing the overhead television screen. When he unconsciously pouted, Fuu smirked at the waitress, who was glancing between the two with evident confusion. "Roxy, this is a good friend of mine. This is M—"

"Mark," he hastily interrupted. Fuu's brown eyes snapped to him, brow pinched in puzzlement. He ignored her and went back to watching the other men, decided that was plenty for an introduction. He was not one for small talk.

He could feel the boxer's stare digging into the back of his skull, but he didn't want to be pressed in front of the other woman. Realizing he wouldn't say more, Fuu gave up trying to transmit a psychic command at the rugged man to speak up and grinned tightly to her friend acquired over numerous visits to the bar. "Can I get a strawberry daiquiri with whip cream?"

Roxy nodded, not even giving into the urge to write down the drink order. "No, Coors tonight?"

The girl's nose wrinkled. "Heck, no."

They giggled warmly over some inside joke and the blonde looked to the rigid man studying the woman sitting next to him. "Want anything to drink, _Mark_?"

The exaggerated sugary tone she used with his fake name made it apparent to the table that the woman didn't believe it was real, but with his great poker face, Mugen kept his face neutral. He glanced towards the bar. "Corona."

Winking to Fuu, the waitress strode off to retrieve their drinks. As soon as the blonde was out of earshot, Fuu whirled in her seat and scowled. "What was that about?"

"You shouldn't give out your name." He replied arrogantly.

Her face reddened, hearing his scolding tone. "Mugen, they wouldn't be circulating here so who cares?"

"You don't know where they are so who's to say," he replied smugly, his eyes now finding the game interesting. Fuu narrowed a dangerous glare on his growing smirk. She silently debated whether to smack him or shove the ashtray up his nose. Luckily for the unsuspected ex-gangster, the drinks arrived. Fuu thanked Roxy merrily, angry thoughts for the man beside her forgotten, and told her they were waiting on "Unc" before they ordered any food.

Alone again, she eagerly sipped a taste of her drink, moaning her approval as the sugary flavor melted on her tongue. Mugen studied her quietly as she drank before shoving the lime into the clear bottle and knocking back his beer. Familiar fire flew down his throat and he relished the stale memory. He definitely needed to sneak out the apartment more.

Putting his half-empty bottle down, he returned to watching her. "I thought Christians don't drink."

Fuu swirled her straw lazily through the whip cream. "Some believe it's a sin to drink, but there are others who just don't believe in getting drunk."

She was about to lift a small white glob to her mouth with her straw, but decided against it, due to the watchful eyes of her company. "As they say, Jesus turned water into wine."

"Uh huh," he mumbled as he slowly edged his hand over her shoulder. Fuu squealed in outrage as his fingers darted forward and swept up a clump of whip cream.

"Get your own!" she cried half-heartedly, an invisible smile sneaking into her brown eyes as she tried to catch his wrist. His arm rapidly swept under her neck in a loose choke hold as he leaned forward. Fuu latched both her hands over his blue tattoo and viciously tugged. Sadly, her weak strength was nothing compared to his biceps. As they grappled for power, they were unaware that they were both laughing lightly. With triumphant grin, Mugen swallowed the delicious sweetness and licked his fingers clean. Fuu glared heatedly at him, still caught in his headlock and still inches away from his face. "You're paying for that."

His lips twitched. "You have the money, remember."

Her cheeks reddened, having forgotten the one important detail. "You can wash dishes."

Almost immediately, something dark flashed in his eyes and the pink tinge flushed out of her face. His face was oddly neutral, the laughter that had been there seconds before gone and replaced with calm indecision.

"Mugen?" she questioned anxiously.

His lips tugged back upwards, but it wasn't the previous smirk. Instead, the grin was rough and devious. He leaned forward and suddenly Fuu noticed the scant inches separating them.

"I don't do dishes," he mumbled, the warm breath puffing across her newly pinked face. She was glad the whip cream covered up the beer he drank. She could barely tolerate the bitter smell. If she had just smelt the Corona on his breath, she knew she would have cringed and Mugen would have misinterpreted it as disgust towards him.

She nearly jumped when the arm around her neck shifted and his fingers played with the loose hair at the back of her nap. His nose brushed hers and she swallowed nervously, her eyes unable to look away from his smoldering dark ones.

"Mugen?" she repeated, dumbly. Her brain had stopped working and the only tangible thought she could reach, in the middle of rushing emotions, was the way his gaze could always make her stomach flop.

"Since I can't pay you, I'll just give it back." With one swift lurch, his mouth connected with hers in an earth shattering kiss. Fuu went rigid and for a heartbeat, they stared at one another before letting their eyes simultaneously slid closed. Mugen growled hungrily and move roughly over her lips. Fuu sunk into the kiss, allowing him to do what he wanted.

In the back part of her mind, a red siren blared. If she allowed this to happen, she wouldn't be able to let go him later. It had been torture last time. She had forced herself to never look back, not even as she said, _'You see ya, guys.'_ She didn't want to think about doing it again, but she couldn't believe there was anything in his mind beyond the sheets of her bed. Her beliefs were unshakable in her heart and she refused to give into the man she had secretly loved for the last two years even if it meant fulfilling a dream.

But it was a dream.

She couldn't believe that he would ever present her with a ring, glamorous or dull. He was about one night stands and hookers. The man didn't hold to morals and she couldn't hang onto the hope he would start. Especially, after he had repeatedly refused any opportunity, pointing to it with mockery and disdain. She got where he was coming from. She had visited the life he had crawled out of and she understood the impact it had made, but in her heart, she wept for his bitterness. As long as he held onto it, she didn't know how he could open his arms to her or God.

She didn't want to give up on him…but she could never give up on God.

As he kissed her, this all flashed painfully through her heart and she was met with the indecision to pull away. When he coaxed her mouth open and pushed the remains of the whip cream onto her tongue, she lost her grip on reality. Later, she would pray forgiveness for her weakness, but in that smoky bar, she couldn't think much beyond the feel of his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth and the cream flavor melting between them.

Mugen growled his approval when she gave him access. He knew in a shadowy recess of his heart that he was taking advantage of the situation, but damn, he wanted to taste her and he didn't know how to hold back.

When they time came to separate, they both were reluctant. They didn't know if another time would ever ensue and that was a harsh reality to open eyes to. Gradually pulling themselves apart by mere inches, they stared uncertain at each other, wondering what was racing through the other's mind. It was odd they hadn't realized her arms had found their way up around his shoulders.

Fuu could see something clashing inside the man who never hesitated. She chewed her lower lip and his eyes darted unconsciously to her mouth. "Mugen, I—"

"After a kiss like that, puppy, you can't say you're a lesbian."

The crude voice was like a slap to the face. Stiffening, Fuu's mouth snapped shut and she whirled. Mugen was a little surprise she hadn't released him, but that was hardly where his focus was at the time. There were a handful of unwanted men crowding the opposite end of the table, one of them, a tall figure with tattoos running up the entire expansion of both his arms, was leaning on his palms over their drinks. He leered appreciatively over Fuu's apparel, his sharp ice blue eyes following the curve of the high tank top to the edge of her jean jacket's cuffs.

"I'll give you fair warning tonight, guys," Fuu stated icily, planting her glare firmly on the smirking leader. "Walk away."

"Of course, we will," the man laughed hoarsely, his voice obviously altered from a thousand cigarettes. He dropped irritably into the seat beside her and stretched an arm over the top of the red booth. "As soon as you give us all kiss like that."

From a glance, the man was definitely up in the list of the top hottest men. Sandy, spiked hair, broad shoulders, lean built… definitely worthy of a second glance from any straight woman or any gay man. Even the tattoos gave him a bad-boy edge, though the black and gray designs were overdone. She bet there were hundred more on his back under the tight gray tank he wore. He almost reminded her of a blonde Mugen…almost.

The man, she had unfortunately come to known as Garrett, was a far cry from the ex-gangster she was presently latched to. Garrett was a man who was spoiled from childhood, the neighbor thug from a beautiful private school on the other side of town. From what Roxy and few other employees told her, he had been a rebel his entire life. He enjoyed a rough fight, like Mugen, but his wasn't based on the survival instinct that was built in the ex-gangster. His thirst for fights was because he enjoyed the thrill of brutality and power over people. He always said he loved the music of bones breaking far better than any FM station. The man circulated bars and whore houses like any normal bad—ahem—man. Fuu guessed he did it out of boredom, not out of desperate need to forget about the rest of the world. There were rumors he was walking the dangerous road closer to murder. He had nearly beaten two men to death once and he constantly spoke of the memory with delight. She could see it in his blue eyes that he had wished he gone further. It's potentially to frightened people into submission had gotten him hungry for new, dangerous fun. In all, the man disgusted her.

Fuu quickly pulled her arms back to her sides and squared off, as best she could in the confines of the booth, with the bully. Her eyes narrowed on his hand creeping along the top of seat closer towards her. "Get lost, Garrett."

The weight behind her shifted and Fuu hastily sought his knee under the table. When her fingers brushed his jeans, she squeezed his knee as a silent signal to stay out of her fight. Garrett was ignoring Mugen completely, but she guessed the man was furious behind her.

"Not without you, babe," Garrett mumbled, silkily. The more he leaned in, the further she leaned back. It didn't take long for her back to hit Mugen's shoulder. She felt a swell of courage pool in her stomach when her love's hand swept around her waist in a possessive hold. Ice blue eyes glanced at the ex-gangster's hand, but he was hardly put off. In fact, his smirk widened.

"Hey, man," he called over her shoulder at Mugen. "Don't worry about her. If you want we can let you join in the fun. I'm not one for threesomes, but a couple of my guys—"

The man had been too busy looking at scowling Mugen to see her fist curl at her side. Garrett had barely noticed the motion in the corner of his eyes before the right side of his face exploded. The man slid a little backwards in his seat and his group moaned the pain their leader failed to vocalize.

Fuu pulled back her fist and unconsciously shook it twice. Garrett slowly pulled his spine straight and rigid. His eyes flashed, but Fuu met his glare bravely, her hand curling back into a fist in preparation.

"Wrong move, bitch," Garrett threatened coldly, his hand lunging forward and gripping her wrist. Fuu struggled, but as always she was unable to throw off a man's grip. In seconds, she was yanked out of Mugen's side and pressed up against the bully's chest. Her brow pinched in fury at being manhandled as Garrett pressed his brow against hers. Alcohol wafted over her cheeks and her nose wrinkled.

"You need to learn your place." The man hissed and dove his hand under her jacket. Her struggles became frantic as his demanding fingers found the bottom of her tank top. He had barely swept his sweaty hand up her rib cage when a gun ran passed her shoulder and kissed his temple. Thankfully, Garrett froze, eyes heatedly focusing on the ex-gangster glaring at him. A round of clicks echoed across the table and Fuu inwardly cursed herself.

"Back off, _Garrett_." Mugen grinned excitedly. It had been hard not to whip out the gun sooner. After being interrupted and her personal space intruded, he had been fully ready to beat the shit out of the man. He was glad, however, that Fuu had silently ordered him to hold back because he was now given a reason to use his gun.

"Three guns against your one," Garrett replied smoothly, his face perfectly calm. "You really want to play with those odds?"

Mugen's lips slid higher, "I might be outnumbered, but all I need is one bullet to get what I want."

"You'll be dead, too," Garrett stated.

"Maybe, maybe not," Mugen sang merrily, digging the gun deeper against the man's temple. "I've made it through some tough scraps before."

The heavy cock of shotgun broke through the tension. Fuu groaned softly when saw the pepper haired bartender standing three feet away. _'Great…'_

The shotgun's barreled shifted between the table and the men standing. The bald six-foot-three tall man glowered at the group. "I honestly don't care if you kill each other, but I won't have it in my bar."

The bartender was hardly a threat against so many guns, but as Fuu expected, two bouncers only a few inches shorter than boss stalked up behind Garrett's men. The guns across the table lowered. Fuu inhaled sharply when she noticed Mugen's gun wasn't ready to drop. Mugen was hungry to drive a bullet into Garrett's skull and he be damned if he finally listened to someone other than himself.

Slowly, Fuu turned her head, trying her best not to startle the ex-gangster into accidentally shooting the man. She was surprised to see how furious Mugen actually was. With his teeth bared, his eyes were burning on the man's temple. His chest was heaving against her back with his breathing faintly raking through his wide nostrils. She didn't remember him being this angry since Mukuri double crossed him that second time. She carefully leaned her face closer, pulling his attention away to her. She smiled gently and reached for his arm.

"Let it go," she instructed softly.

"Hell no!" he hissed, snapping back to Garrett. Fuu's breath caught in her throat, but thankfully, he didn't pull the trigger. He was hesitating.

Her heart fluttered as she realized he was actually considering her. Her fingers lazily wrapped around his wrist and tugged. It was if his muscles were made out of steel. She couldn't even get him to budge an inch. The bartender now had his shotgun pointed on Mugen and she knew she was running out of time.

Going against the scream of her conscience, the girl leaned back and brushed her lips against the ex-gangster's ear. "If you let it go, I promise you a kiss later."

Taking only a heartbeat to debate his decision, Mugen reluctantly pulled the gun off the man. Garrett didn't move automatically much to Fuu's irritation. He was happy to stay seating in the booth, hand still up her shirt.

"Move it, Garrett!" The bartender thundered. "Get you and your guys out. I've had enough of you for one night."

The blonde snorted lightly, putting his hot stare back on Fuu. "Later, puppy."

Sliding his hand sensually out from under her shirt, he pulled out of the booth. With shoulders pulled back in arrogance, the man strode pass the bartender and his bouncers without apology. His lackeys hurried to follow him out of the now _quiet_ bar.

Fuu exhaled loudly in relief. "Sorry about that, Joe."

The bartender slapped his shotgun over his shoulder and scowled. "Fuu, you know I don't think you are responsible for that jackass, but you best watch yourself. Garrett won't let you off next time."

Fuu nodded sadly. "Yea, I know. I'd hate to make trouble for yall."

"Don't worry." He grunted, waving off his bouncers. "I got enough to keep things safe here. You just got to careful once you walk out those doors."

"Don't worry." She grinned cheerfully, patting the hand still gripping her waist. "I've got my bodyguard."

Joe nodded stiffly to the ex-gangster, his hard eyes doubtful, but appreciative for the man's protection. Then with a fluid motion, the man lumbered back to his bar to attend what was left of his customers. Most of them had rushed out when the guns had appeared.

Fuu sank with a sigh of relief into Mugen side. She needed to feel him, to know he was there. Stupid man was throwing out life for hers again, painfully reminding her of that day years ago at the church. She was glad he had challenged Garrett, but she wished she hadn't put him in danger. Before long, he might suffer another close call. Her limbs trembled with fear.

"You okay?" he grunted.

She painted a perfect smile onto her face and nodded. "Yea. I'm so happy I got to punch him."

"Who is he?" he grumbled, eyes narrowing on the door the man had disappeared behind.

"He's a regular here." She replied, sipping her drink again. "Met me one of the first visits here. In short, he liked me and tried many things, but I, Unc, or Joe would discourage him. At one point, I convinced him I was a lesbian."

"Kinky." Mugen murmured with fiery eyes.

Fuu rolled her eyes. _'Of course, he would think that.'_

"I didn't lie." She stated lightly. "I just didn't tell the absolute truth."

Rolling back his shoulders and leaning back in his usual horrible posture, Mugen's fingers played with the edge of her jacket. "Why does he call you puppy?"

Fuu's face soured. "He started calling me 'Puppy' after I scolded him for using the b-word. He said I was naïve, but still worthy to sleep with, thus my nickname."

"You never scold me about using the b-word or any other bad word." Mugen stated curiously.

Her brown eyes narrowed. "That's because I know you won't listen."

Mugen chuckled, "Hell yay."

The girl was about to give a snide comment when she noticed a man walking towards them. Her eyes lit up and she waved enthusiastically. Mugen looked up when she waved and watched a man wearing a white polo walked towards them. Stitched in the left hand corner were the words: _The Iron Ring._ Mugen guessed it was the boxer's school.

"Hey, Fuu," the man greeted, bending down and hugging her. Mugen frowned when he noticed a dull light in the man's expression.

Turning to Mugen, the man nodded. "Hi, I'm Zuikou. You must be Mugen."

Normally, Zuikou would offer his hand to whoever he met, but Fuu had warned him that her friend would probably would get disgruntle so she advised to skip the formality. The ex-gangster said nothing, except watch him warily. As slid in the empty spot on the other side of Fuu, Roxy hurried over. "Hey, Z."

"Hey, Roxy." He replied warmly, "How are you?"

"Can't complain. You want a Budlight?"

"Definitely," he exhaled deeply, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

"Bottle?"

"Bottle." He nodded. With a happy smile only offered to her favorite customers, the waitress went to the bar.

The conversation slid immediately into Zuikuo's family and work. Fuu and the boxer talked mostly about his three kids, discussing the girl who was going through recovery from her recent heart surgery. Mugen stayed comfortable on the edge of the conversation listening in with attentive ear. Nothing of interest ever came up until the subject shifted to the topic everyone was waiting for on the edge of their seats.

"The Shogun has been collecting in a storage facility on 34th Street."

Fuu hunched closer, keeping her voice low. "How do you know?"

"One of my students talked about something odd when he went moved some furniture out of the facility," he whispered. "There were a lot of men shuffling in there from what he said."

"How do you know their Shogun?" Mugen asked, finally speaking up for the first time since the man arrived.

Zuikuo lifted an eyebrow upon hearing the man, but it quickly returned to its place. "I went and hid a camera. When I looked at the tape, I recognized a few of the faces."

"What else?" Fuu prodded gently.

Zuikuo sighed and met her eyes wearily, "I think the Shogun have narrowed down to your neighborhood."

* * *

..

Fuu threw her jacket and cap lazily onto the couch, strolling leisurely over to the frig and pulling out a diet orange soda. The fizz played on her tongue as she leaned back on the door. _'Got to move again.'_

She was entirely sick of moving. She had prayed since they had move in that this would be the last one for the year, but she was sadly disappointed. She wasn't surprised they had locked in on her random appearance in the church. Only a stupid man would have connected the dots when she had left. She had to have been living close to the church because she was on foot so it didn't take long to play trial and error with the apartment complexes.

"Hey."

Looking up at her roommate, she realized he was smiling. "What?"

When he pushed off the wall and walked towards her, she knew what he wanted. Fuu shifted nervously, glancing towards the living room. "You want that kiss, don't you?"

Both his palms planted onto either side of her head, trapping her as he grinned devilish. "You read my mind,_ puppy_."

Her heart hammered in her ears and the air became very hot as it pressed tight between their flushed figures. Her mind was quickly shutting down and they hadn't even connected, yet!

"Wait, wait, wait!" Fuu exclaimed, pressing her hand frantically to his mouth as he leaned forward. He gave her frustrated scowl from behind her hand as she smiled sweetly. "Close your eyes."

His scowl deepened. "What?"

She chewed on her lower lip. "Just do it."

He rolled his eyes and growled loudly before letting his eyelids slid close. Fuu tried not to laugh as she lowered her hand. Brining her face closer, she gently pressed her lips to the tip of nose and bolted out from under his arms. She hadn't made it to the corner before he exploded. "You little bitch!"

His feet pounded after her and she burst out laughing. She glanced backwards at him, her hair flying angelically around her beautiful smile. Mugen's heart pounded and he didn't notice his lips slip. "That wasn't a kiss!"

The door locked behind her and he slid to furious halt. Slapping both his palms against the white surface, he demanded her to let him in. Her reply was a infuriating, "Nope. That's all you are going to get!"

On the other side, Fuu slid slowly down the length of her door to the plush carpet. Her heart constricted as the steady pounding of his fists vibrated through the wood. She couldn't do it. She could give another one of her kisses.

Tears began to leak from her eyes as she lowered her head to the floor. He tried to hide her sorrow behind a joyous tone, but it second brought her that much closer to a nervous breakdown. When the door had clicked behind her, she had come to a startling conclusion. _'I have to…I have to leave him. If I want him to be safe, I'm going to have to run away.'_

She was dimly aware that had Mugen had given up knocking about the same time she broke into quiet sobs. _'I saw him smile just now...I was so close to making him truly smile...'_

* * *

_A/N: I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with this update, but it was necessary I got it out. I was beginning to run into a big wall of writer's block. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

.. 

Day Seventy-eight without a hangover might as well have been swamped under twenty kegs. He could have at least blamed his bad attitude over disagreeable liquor. No, instead he was forced to drown his hell of a morning in two cans of carbonated orange soda. His eyebrow annoyingly twitched as he downed the second drink and examined the empty bedroom.

He still couldn't figure out how she had slipped out of the apartment without awakening him. He was naturally a light sleeper, even though he appeared dead as stone. Years of hitchhiking and sleeping on doorsteps had forced him to keep both ears open in his dreams. So, it was a complete shock to his un-drunk system when he saw her empty closet and missing dog dish. The only sign that she had left freely was the white notecard and wad of bills left on her bare mattress. He had scoffed at the farewell she had hastily written in blue: _'Goodbye again. I'm sorry.'_

Crunching the can in his fist, he growled. He had gotten too comfortable in the apartment. Stupid bitch had made him soft. Checking through the dirty pane of her window, he saw the rusty fire escape. The bottom ladder was down. _'Must have left this way.'_

Rolling his eyes, he grumbled a curse and returned to the kitchen. He really needed a beer. Glaring at the starved refrigerator, he debated over the half leftover sub or a bruised apple. He quickly grabbed the sandwich and hopped onto the counter. Tearing into his breakfast, Mugen began to calculate the distance she could have made.

_'If she went on foot, then she's an even bigger idiot than I thought. There's too much wannabe trash in this neighborhood for her to get out easily. She must have taken the late night bus.'_ Her Honda had been abandoned a long time ago after the Shogunate had ruined it with their guns. In this type of neighborhood, the car had easily disappeared into someone else's garage.

_'She's probably aiming for the interstate to grab a ride and gain some fast distance.'_

Smacking loudly on the last bite of his breakfast, Mugen debated what to do. In all fairness, she had told him at the beginning he was a free man. She hadn't expected him to stay with her and in the last months, she hadn't asked for him to protect her. He had taken the job regardless. Checking the dollar bills, he realized he had enough to keep the apartment for half a year if needed. Maybe she thought by then he would have found a job to pay the monthly rent.

_'Like Hell. I'm hitting the bars.'_ The thought was surprisingly only half-eager. His eyes were scanning the empty living room. A shadowy church slipped into his head and his limbs became fidgety. Without a word, he shoved the bills into his back pocket and collected a few magazines. Strapping on his holster over his shoulders and throwing on his battered leather jacket, the ex-gangster stormed out the door, intent and determined.

* * *

.. 

With his cigarette hanging from his lips, he slipped into the phone booth, ignoring the need to close the door. Grabbing the phonebook attached by a chain link to the massive machine, Mugen rapidly turned to the business section.

His eyes stumbled over the words several times, his limited reading proving irritably slow in his haste. He was lucky he had opened the thick book close to the needed page or he might have been standing in the booth to close to an hour. Smirking, he recklessly tore out the needed section and pocketed the tattered paper. Mugen tossed the phonebook and exited, only freezing after two long strides. A random thought crossed his mind.

It was a slim chance and he was tempted to leave it as impossible, but if he was right, it would make everything interesting. Whirling back into the booth, he retrieved the yellow book swinging from its chain. He had barely brought the small print to his eyes again when he heard the clap of feet behind him. "Move it, bro."

Mugen glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows pinched in the usual 'shove off' expression. Behind him was standing the everyday Blood, red bandana tied at the forehead, hefty jeans with dark boxers exposed, hundred dollar sneakers, and the look that was meant to intimidate. Saying nothing, Mugen returned to his reading. He counted the seconds for the expected outburst. "I'll pretend you didn't hear me. Get your ass out!"

Since he had left his neighborhood, Mugen had fallen into two reactions when dealing with gangsters, especially the young and inexperienced members. (1) Ignore them and then (2) scare the shit out of them.

With a smooth, quick motion Mugen whipped out his gun and pointed it at the teenager's forehead. When the boy went for the gun tucked stupidly in his slipping waistband, Mugen immediately grabbed his wrist and twisted. The no name was down on his knees in a single blink, yelling out curses. "Aw, come on man! I was just f— kidding!"

"Shut the hell up!" Mugen rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit!"

Pressing the gun harder against his head, the ex-gangster yanked the man's gun out and frowned. "This is a f— toy!"

The boy froze with eyes wide and fearful. "I'm still new. Won't let me have one of theirs until I do a few things."

Mugen's eyebrow rose. It wasn't normal for gangs to hold back guns. The usual move of leaders was to hand them off with ease, pulling boys into the dark sinful pits that would trap them forever. "You're shitting me."

"No, man!" He cried frantically when the gun pressed harder. "My bro' da leader. Doesn't think I'll hold up pass two weeks once 'da cops make their rounds. Says I'm too stupid to save my own d— let alone keep the blues from getting a hold of a gun."

Mugen was tempted to shoot regardless of the fact the gang lord's brother was at the end of his gun. It would definitely take off some of the tension he was feeling. The thing that saved the boy—and probably the ex-gangster—was the shiny black object clipped to his belt. Smirking, Mugen leaned over, gun still pressed and ready, and lifted the Razor cell phone. The boy shifted forward when he realized what was happening, but a steady shove with the gun quickly stopped him. Mugen grinned wickedly, "Tell you what. I'll keep this as payment for pissing me off. Next time, don't be so rude to a Ryu-kuuian."

The boy fell in a disorganized heap when he was shoved to the concrete. He stared up at the man with confusion. "Ryu-kuuian?"

Mugen scowled at the stupidity of the wannabe gangster. He surely wouldn't last long if hadn't heard of the mob from his neighborhood. He knew the gang's history circulated far out past this city, even if it was rare to run across a member. The boy's brother was right to keep a real gun out of his hand. Shooting off a round to hurry the kid's exit, Mugen watched with delicious pride as the boy nearly tripped over his falling jeans.

Giving a quick check for any other disruptions, Mugen returned to the phone book. Minutes later after searching the list of private lines, he saved a phone number he had never seen into his new cell. When the screen requested a _'name'_ to attach to the number, he decided to not waste time using the long title he had looked up, and instead settled for a three letter word: _Jin_.

* * *

.. 

Two buses and several bills later, Mugen strolled down a busy uptown street. Matching a street sign with the address stolen from the phonebook, the ex-gangster turned a corner and followed the numbers. Ten minutes later, he had found his destination: The Iron Ring.

His moment of triumphant immediately turned sour when he noticed the 'Sorry. We're Closed!' sign hanging in the top of the glass door. His eyes darted down to the posted hours, frustrated he had crossed a late lunch hour for the boxing ring. His brow pinched tighter when he realized the closed sign conflicted with the open hours. Shrugging, he grabbed the silver handle and tugged. It didn't budge.

Huffing, he scanned for other openings. All the first floor windows were sealed shut with obvious alarm systems built into the panes. The second row were double panned with no apparent bars or alarms, but no visible way to reach them. Looking in either direction of the busy sidewalk, he caught sight of slim alleyway leading probably to a side or back entrance. When he searched further, his suspicions were confirmed with a dead end alley with a back door and line of trash bins. Ambling towards his entrance, Mugen's dark eyes trailed over the black Harley Davison standing next to the short steps. His smile became greedy, thoughts lingering on how to steal the bike afterwards.

Getting closer to the door, the ex-gangster picked up a discarded brick from the edge of wall and tossed it playfully up and down as he approached. The window was only a foot-and-half wide, but it would give enough to get any lock open. From the looks of the key hold there were at least two deadbolts. His feet slowed when he saw the way the bolts were protruding oddly. They appeared to have been pulled out of alignment to where the lock wouldn't work properly. Checking the handle, he discovered the door opened soundless without any resistance, making him tossed the brick carelessly back into the alley.

The room was surprisingly dark for midday. He could barely distinguish what type of room he had entered. His hand fumbled for the light switch, but hesitated to flip on the needed overhead when he thought about the locks. Either someone had already left or they were still here. Silently pulling out his gun, he waited for his eyes to adjust.

He was standing in a storage room. Random equipment was bundles up on metal shelves and hanging from a line of pegs in hooks on empty spaces of wall. Finding nothing of interest, he passed through the archway at the other end of the room and into a lengthy hall. Most of the doors lining the small corridor appeared abandoned. The main double doors he guessed led to the front room where the boxing ring laid, but he guessed no one would be in plain view of the pedestrians passing on the sidewalk. Carefully he treaded the hallway, searching for some sign of life. When he got to the third door, he had begun to believe that the intruders were gone. His gun began to lower. It jumped up three times faster than normal when he a muffled groan.

He waited tensely, the muzzle of his gun shifting between a pair of doors. He needed another noise to tell him which door. Hardly patient and overly confident, he kicked in the nearest one. As soon as he rushed in, he could vaguely see a form fumbling in the darkness. "Stop or I shoot something off!"

His bark got the action he wanted, and keeping his gun leveled with one hand, he reached blindly for the light switch. Finding the evasive object, he was blinded by the light flooding the room. Blinking several times, his eyes refocused and he was surprised to see a modest office completely in shambles with a familiar figure lying in the remains. His eyebrows lifted when he saw multiple bruises and blood pumping from a broken nose. "Zuikou?"

Looking through the tight lids of a swollen eye, the boxer began to relax. "Mugen? You're Mugen, right?"

Gun lowered, the ex-gangster knelt by the man. "What happened? You get robbed, old man?"

"I wish!" He moaned, slumping back on the floor. "Do you think dumb robbers could put out a ten year champion?"

Mugen's scowl returned. "Shogun?"

The boxer nodded. "I don't know how they found me. Two years and they suddenly closed in on my scent."

"Well you were close to her father." He scolded roughly. "It shouldn't have taken this long for them to realize she might contact you."

"No, no!" he cried, lifting his head slightly off the floor. "You don't understand. They've known about me for years. They've been keeping careful watch on me, but have been slowly lifting the eyes on me because of the lack of activity. Fuu and I have been very careful. I'm guessing there was an informant recently."

"What happened?" Mugen repeated, grumpily.

Zuikou slowly pulled himself off the floor, "What do you think? They wanted to know where Fuu was."

The boxer grunted in distress when the ex-gangster painfully yanked him closer by the cuff of his polo's collar. Mugen glared furiously into the man's startled eyes. "You bastard!"

"Huh?"

"You f— told them!" he shouted, spit flying. The boxer's eyes widened as the ex-gangster wound his fist tighter into the man's shirt. "You'd be dead if you hadn't!"

"They threatened my family!" the boxer shouted back. "I've got two kids and a wife! Fuu made me swear if they were ever threatened to make sure I gave the Shogun whatever they wanted!"

"F— coward!" He shoved the man to the floor, his teeth grinding together when the man moaned on impact. When the safety clicked off, the boxer froze. Mugen seethed as his finger twitched on the trigger. "Normally, I wouldn't think twice about shooting. Family or not you turned her in. Are you stupid enough to believe she has a chance escaping now!"

"You think I didn't try to throw them off?" he shouted back, growing furious with the accusation. "Fuu is like a daughter to me. I gave them fake addresses, wrong directions, anything! After each one turned up empty, they beat me and finally threatened my home. They put my daughter on the phone for God's Sake! I couldn't hold out after that!"

"Where is she?" Mugen hissed lowly, his body shaking. He had never believed he could restrain himself as he glared at the battered man. His life was still on a thread; his only salvation was the constant image of the girl's disappointed face. She would never forgive him if he killed her friend.

Zuikou sighed wearily, confident the man wouldn't shoot him. "She went to safe house on the next town over, Franklin. She should have gotten there hours ago. The address is 915 Agnes Dalbor Road. It's four hours away."

"How long ago did they leave?" Mugen snapped.

"An hour at least." He replied dryly. "I'm not sure. I blacked out."

"Give me the keys to your bike!"

"What?"

"It will take too long, otherwise!" he yelled heatedly, gun shaking in emphasis. "You want to say your family was threatened that's why you gave her up? Fine! Give me your f— bike!"

Shadows filled the boxer's eyes and he nodded stiffly. "There in the top desk drawer."

Pulling the drawer out of the desk completely, Mugen tossed the contents onto the floor in front of the man. Without command, the boxer shuffled through the pile and grabbed his yellow key ring. Catching the keys in the air, Mugen lowered his gun and gave the man a final disapproving look. "You're lucky you know her."

Zuikou anxiously watched the man race out of the room, a single prayer repeating throughout his throbbing skull for the young woman. "I know."

* * *

.. 

The three and half hour ride was like flying through a hurricane. He had considered staying around the speed limit to keep the cops from slowing him down, but guessed his lack of helmet would still get him pulled over in this state so he gunned the engine and road as if the ground was collapsing beneath the tires.

Maybe God was watching over him that, if there was a God. He never saw a cop, shaved nearly an hour off the distance, good weather, and the tank was thankfully full. Either way, he wouldn't be thanking anyone today.

Tugging on the handles, he pulled the bike onto a gravel road. The green and white sign at the head of the road pronounced the near end to his long journey. There pressed between the halo of a dozen trees stood a waiting shack in the golden sunset. It was ghostly haunting of random memories from their old journey. Sliding to a dusty halt, the ex-gangster parked and rushed the olive green door. He didn't stop to knock.

He flung the door open and burst into the house. It was a lot like the apartment back in the city, bare. There was a ragged ugly purple couch in the living room and no table or frig in the kitchen. A bright red ice box sat oddly out place in the dusty room. The flowery curtains were closed allowing only the slimmest rays into the house. Dust danced in the sunlight. Stepping further inside the living room, he saw her navy backpack against the ashy fireplace.

A small cough immediately snapped him to the left, making him face a closet he had noticed before. With a short twist of the handle, he opened the door and stared down at a pair of wide eyes. Momo barked excitedly on sight of his master's friend and pressed his paws against the man's legs with a doggy smile. Mugen frowned. Fuu would never put Momo in the closet, even if the mutt was terribly annoying.

"Where is she, mutt?" Sensing the man's fury, Momo's quickly lowered and whined. He swore under his breath. "Useless! You need to learn from Lassie!"

Giving up on the dog, the man turned. Somehow, his eyes instinctively lowered and he found the dark spot on the floor. In the dim light, it was difficult to tell how old the blood was. Kneeling for closer inspection, the ex-gangster pressed two fingers against the mark. It was cold to the touch and left only a faint blush on his fingertips. His jaw tightened. They had an hour on him. Worse, he couldn't be sure where they were going. He could try going back and checking the storage facility the Shogun had been staying in, but if they went somewhere else, he would loose valuable time. Fuu could be dead by time he checked the storage room, if she wasn't dead already.

Flipping open his cell, he began digging through the list of names. Pressing the green button, he waited for someone to pick up. On the third ring, a cheery voice greeted him.

"Is this the Kakekomi-dera Convent?" Mugen rumbled. While he heard an affirmative exclamation, his eyes fell on the dark cap hiding behind the edge of the couch, escaping his previous search. Quietly picking it up by the bill, he pressed his index finger through the bullet hole. "Yes. Is there a woman by the name of Shino there?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Woah... Hard chapter to get out. Was dealing with serious brick wall when writing this the last few days. Amazingly, it still only took about 3 days to complete like the rest of the chapters. If I wasn't sharing my time with another fanfic I think this fic could have been completed in a month. Anyway, we're reaching a close yall. I'm thinking 3-4 chapters left._

* * *

**  
**

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

..

Had it been four days or five? She couldn't be sure. She had fallen asleep trice since she had arrived at what she had come to call the hell hole, but when she had woken this time, it was still dark out of the single two-foot-wide basement window. They hadn't fed her so she couldn't decide by meals. With the way her stomach was aching, she prayed it was five. They probably we're trying to break her for information about underground Christian organizations. Four days hardly seemed long enough if they were trying to starve her. Five days meant that much closer to reaching some sort of end, whether be an interrogation or her death.

The November cold seeped into the barren room, sliding up her spine. Fuu whimpered lightly and pulled her knees closer to her chest. They had ripped her jacket from her the day they had thrown into the makeshift cell and no one came in to offer her a blanket. She had considered exercising (walking, running, etc) to warm herself up, but after a day without food, she decided she would need every ounce of her energy.

Boredom had settled after the first hour and had blared straight into her sleep. She couldn't even get into counting sheep. She would get to thirty-six and then silently comment on her increasing boredom. She had only tried sleeping because there was nothing she could think up to do.

Day two was full of stretched out hope for visitors. It had already been close to evening when they had pulled into the black sedan and yank a blindfold over her eyes. She thought they had skipped out on her meal for the first day and had waited impatiently for door activity. Her fists were red from hours of banging on the door and her voice had lost its pleasant tone after her vocal cords were thoroughly stretched out. As the shadows crawled lazily over the concrete floor, Fuu soon learned there was no intention for anyone to visit. Her worry increased tenfold when her stomach twisted violently in hunger.

Day three pushed her into a wild panic as she became nauseated from lack of food and water. Her head was pounding and any small amount of movement made her head float painfully. Fuu made sure to complain extra-loudly at the ceiling, hoping her captors could hear. She even began to sing off-key letting her believe she was irritating someone's eardrums. At least, it made her feel good for the time being.

Day four or five was a depressing gray, especially since the concrete walls had rudely followed her into the sanctuary of her dreams. She was personally surprised she hadn't broken down crying the first day. Maybe she had subconsciously known this day would come. Did she always believe she would die at their hands like her father had? When her eyes had fluttered open she had been facing the nearest wall, the one she remembered pressing her back against. She had momentarily gone into a panic, thinking she had been put into her coffin. Scrambling away with a small cry, she was relieved to see she was still in the cold basement. Relief quickly dropped to bitter tears as she realized the room might as well become her coffin. She doubted there was much time left before something drastic happened.

Fuu's heart skipped. Her hands involuntarily tightened around her knees as she felt tears prick her eyes. She wished she was stronger. She had read the stories of the martyrs. Heck, her father had been one. Their romantic unwavering faith had been encouraging to hear. She had spent hours dreaming of how they had stood against the oppression, their faces determine and shining with love for an invisible God. She wanted to bear this load with as much dignity as they did, but she didn't know how.

Was it unfair to doubt? To be frightened in these moments of trial? Especially when nothing was happening? Some martyrs had been stoned or tortured. She had been ignored food and only for the last four days. Did it make her a horrible person? She felt like it did.

She pressed her forehead firmly into her arms and sniffed loudly. She knew it would come the time when they ask her to renounce her faith. It always happened in the stories. Would she be ready to answer? Some weren't given as much as heartbeat of a minute to prepare for such a dangerous question. Many had answered in a split second, never hesitating. Something dark churned in her stomach and a short sob escaped her shaky lips.

"I'm sorry that I'm scared," she mumbled between sniffles. "I'm sure others have suffered more than I have."

The room closed in around her and the ball her body created became tighter. The air was suffocating. She suddenly wished she could open the basement window to get some circulation. Her head flew up. She had never tried to open the window.

Her depression instantly switched into giddy excitement as she scrambled to her feet. Her fingers eagerly reached for the small window, her mind already swimming with images of her escape. Her smile soon dropped when she saw her fingers were two inches too low to reach the windowsill. Gritting her teeth, she pressed hard on her the tip of her toes and desperately stretched her fingers. When she barely gained half inch difference, her heart sank.

Groaning, she dropped her arms and pressed her forehead against the cold wall. She didn't have to look around her cell to know there was nothing to aid her. They had made sure to clear out before her arrival. Fuu pressed her shoulder wearily into the wall, torn between crying and pacing out the nervous twitching in her limbs. Decided against the first, the young woman began to walk along the wall, her fingers lazily trailing the rough surface.

Her chin lifted. "I have to keep my head up. If I keep thinking bad thoughts, than I'm going to end up putting myself into a panic and begging to be released before they even start torturing me."

_'Not that they will. They probably just kill me.'_

The young woman ignored the way her stomach twisted. "I'm not going down as some sniveling dog."

Her thoughts turned to Momo and she cringed. She hoped Momo was alright. Hopefully, someone would find him before he starved to death in that closet. The mutt had bitten a chunk out of an attacker's calf and received a quick kick into the closet. Momo didn't deserve such a sad end. Maybe he had been a stray from the beginning, but he had proven to be essential in her life. He had saved her through some hard scraps, including several sexual assaults. She had come to believe Momo was her good luck charm. "I guess there is no such thing as luck."

Finishing her third circle of the room, the young boxer stopped at her corner. With unfocused eyes, she stared at the toe of her shoes and wrapped her arms around her for warmth. _'Try thinking happy thoughts. Maybe it's a bit 'Peter Pan-ny,' but it's got to be better than wallowing around.'_

* * *

..

_Fuu ignored another wink from the nearby man and added a little vigor to her hand as she wiped a shot glass. Maybe she should switch back to lunch shifts on weekends. Only trash seemed to sit at the bar on Saturday nights. She spent more time avoiding phone numbers and wandering hands than making real money. She preferred the regulars from the day shifts a lot better. They rarely crossed the line where she was forced to refuse them any more alcohol. _

_Tonight was another one of those annoying reminders. The bar was completely full of customers and luckily she had Marsha. Not only did the blonde college dropout help divide the work load, but she also aided in catching some of the unwanted attention. For Marsha, the attention was exciting and helped in the tip department. Fuu didn't care if a drunk tipped her a hundred dollars, she wouldn't resort to flirting. She gave her customers the same smile she gave everyone and had learned to politely reject their advances. Even though her kindness and lack of response was abnormal to most bars, she had appeared to be a bartender who entire life was behind the counter at "Reggies." Instead, she was a girl, not-yet-a-woman, who was waiting for something to happen. _

_Something big did happen that night. Its memory would forever be burned into her mind as the day her life shifted towards the horizon she had always wanted. _

_There was a football game that weekend so the bar area was pressed hard with bodies standing between tables to watch the four televisions hanging. Fuu and Marsha were barely keeping up with the order of drinks so they had split off their teamwork like they normally deal during busy hours. One would keep making drinks while the other dealt with people crowding the bar counter._

_Lucky for Fuu that night, she had the latter job and having a difficult job shooing off an overly-confident young man. The good thing about nights like that was the bar seats didn't rotate customers as quickly as they normally did, thus helping her notice a new face seated amongst the ones she had been looking at for the last two hours. She was shrugging off the troublemaker's lustful comment about her figure when she caught movement in the corner of her eye. A girl with a martini was rushing off with her cash laid out on her recipe. Taking the excuse to grab the cash to get away from the man, she hurried over the abandoned seat. When her fingers curled around the bills, the seat was immediately re-sat with a male body. Whipping on her angelic smile, she lifted her face to greet the newcomer and froze. _

_She had never met the man before, that she was certain. It might be a busy restaurant, but she would have recognized a man like him. Wild short hair, hard set face, scratchy chin, worn leather jacket that fit nicely on broad shoulders—he definitely earned marks for looks and a red warning label for trouble. His was a man who reeked of a dangerous bad boy persona, one she avoided in the drunken atmosphere that presently surrounded her. _

_When his eyes lifted and connected with hers, the young girl was thrown off by the intensity burning in them. His entire demeanor made her curious. Unfortunately, she knew there was hardly any room for discovery in the scene they stood in and decided to get straight to the point._

_"What can I get you?" she asked simply. _

_The guy leaned forward on his elbows with his lips in tight line. "I'll get rid of him for five beers."_

_If she hadn't been completely focused on the man sitting in front of her, she would have believed she misheard his quiet command. Heck, he was lucky she had heard him at all with the shouting going on around them. "Excuse me?"_

_"Lover boy over there," he cocked his head towards the man who was presently calling her several nicknames she didn't care to remember. "I'll get rid of him for five beers."_

_Fuu heatedly pushed off the edge of the counter. "I don't give out free liquor. You want one, than you're paying."_

_Whirling, she went to another customer to give him a little time to think about her response. She hated moochers and sex-maniacs. Tonight, she had both and she was beginning to reach the end of her fuse. To make a long story short, it turned out Fuu did give out a free drink that night. After one too many gropes for her rear by a certain lover boy, Fuu, without blinking an eye, dumped a draft beer over the man's head. Smiling sweetly at his startled face, Fuu stated merrily, "That one is on me."_

_She was sure when the bar went silent with the exceptions of the noise coming from the tvs. It was either right when lover boy's face became red and twisted or when he and several of his friends whipped out guns and pointed it at her forehead. Her brown eyes widened in shock as the cool metal pressed against her skin. It felt so surreal. _

_They had two bouncers at the door for situation similar to this minus the pistol. Glancing nervously at the quickly departing people, she was surprised to see the man in leather still sitting. His lips tilted and her jaw nearly dropped. Was he seriously willing to go against a gun for a few stupid beers?_

_'He's an idiot!'_

_Soon the bar area became the field for a waiting game. A teary Marsha was standing at the other end of the bar, two bouncers were hanging on the edge of the room fearful of setting off the guy's trigger finger, and a few random customers were too scared out of their wits to move. Fuu patiently stared at the man, unsure of what to do. _

_"Stupid bitch! I think you don't understand the type of man you dowsed with good beer."_

_Her hopeful eyes shifted towards the leather jacket. "Fifty beers."_

_Lover boy blinked. "What?"_

_"Fifty beers!" she repeated in a shrill cry, too afraid to think beyond her rapidly shortening life. _

* * *

..

Her teary face warmed on the memory. It was day she chalked up to God's working hands. If it hadn't been for Mugen, the bar wouldn't have burned down the one snare that kept her leashed to her hometown. She might never have made the journey that had led her father, barely before he was murdered.

"I bet he doesn't even know he led me to You," her tone was gentle, adoring. Mugen may have been one of two men to protect her throughout the journey, but he was the catalyst to the start and to the finish. He had been the one to churn the fight in the bar. He had been the one to come to her rescue and push her to the front door of her father's shambles. She knew it was a whimsical idea, but it brought a warm glow to heart. She liked thinking of him threaded into her fate.

* * *

..

_Fuu crashed to the floor in disorganized heap. Whipping her head around as she scrambled to her knees, she was surprised to see Mugen charging Shinsuke. "No! Stop!"_

_His finger was dangerously close to the trigger as he glanced towards her, eyes wild. "What?"_

_"It's not what you think!" she cried, hurrying over to the shaking adolescent. "He wasn't going to hurt me!"_

_"Like I care what happens to your ass!" the ex-gangster snapped quickly. "I'm pissed off because he took the money for my dinner."_

_Her face darkened. "Whatever. Just let him go."_

_"The f— I will!" he thundered, turning back on the boy. _

_"No!" She stomped her foot hard on the wood floor. "He did this for his dying mother. He stole our money for his mother."_

* * *

..

Even though Jin had done equal amount of guarding her, she couldn't help, but think back to whom was the first to always arrive at her aid. She knew they were both equal in strength and speed, so she didn't allow herself to believe Mugen was faster. She tried not thinking on the matter much at all, really. She had never wanted to choose between her two best friends.

That's why the day she had separated from the two, she had kept her words in the prison of her heart. She never wanted Jin to feel any less loved by her. She never wanted to push him away…like that day when Sara had asked for one of her bodyguards.

* * *

..

_"I want you to go along with Sara." She held her breath after she breathed those stabbing words and stared at the professional fighter. Jin blinked only once, startled, but only that slight hint of being thrown off balanced. His poker face revealed nothing of thoughts and she prayed she didn't hate her. _

_He nodded, accepting. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had hoped he would refuse. He had been the one who had shown restraint to Sara's mysterious, attractive persona. If she picked Mugen, she knew he would abandon her without a goodbye. _

_Fuu's heart burst with a new wave of ache as she realized she hadn't accounted for one detail. If she picked Jin, it revealed her stronger attachment to Mugen. Her eyes filled with tears, but she hastily blinked them away and smiled. It was too late to take back her decision, even if it was the only decision. _

* * *

..

Fuu pushed back the unbidden thoughts. She hated to think she was having one of those "my-life-flashed-before-my-eyes" moments. Her mind lazily shifted to the ex-gangster, wondering if he was searching for her. Even if he was, there was any chance he would find her. She had never explained where to find Uncle Zuikou and she doubted she was locked up nearby the apartment. Blindfolding her might have made her blind, but she had been able to tell they hadn't driven very far. The building, house or complex, was about fifteen minutes away from the hidden shack.

She let out a short laugh. "He's probably half way to the nearest bar or pimp."

Even if it was cruel to her emotions to think he had abandoned her, her mouth slid into a tender smile for the man. It wouldn't be the first time he had abandoned her and then did a U-turn.

* * *

..

_Fuu stared in shock as the doors buckled and fell, revealing two dead guards and one pissed off ex-gangster. "Mugen?"_

_His eyes had found hers in a second and they narrowed with confusion at her colorful apparel. Taking in the scene, he realized he was standing in a small casino with the young woman hunched over a pair of dice and surrounded by spectators. The one thing that set off the gambling scene was the dead figure lying on the floor in a pool of red. _

* * *

..

Her chin slowly dropped into the comfortable crook of her arm. Her warm breath ghosted over her goosebumps. Mugen was more than a friend and a crush. He was the key to her life. Perhaps, it had been her father who had unintentionally left her the Bible and teachings she now cherished, but it was Mugen who taught her to believe in something invisible.

A giggle bubbled in her chest. Strange how a man voided of morals brought her to believe in one of the most controversial issues of the present day.

Even though it appeared hard to explain, it was actually quite simple: the more morals he threw out, the more she got. Sadly, however, for the young boxer, it had been more than competition that had fueled her beliefs. No, instead it had been her witnessing the decay in his heart. The constant scene of his cold demeanor had made her chest hollow and tears prick the back of her eyelids. He lived a hopeless existence, going from girl to bottle to sustain his entertainment, his single purpose of life. He ignored the thought of death, angrily claiming there was nothing beyond the grave. Life held no purpose to him.

She couldn't live like that way. She had to believe there was more or else a cold darkness would swallow her. Fuu shivered subconsciously.

_'Besides… ever since I became a Christian a year ago, I've never felt…so complete.'_ If that was wrong, than what was right?

Her heart thundered at her silent proclamation. Suddenly, it didn't feel like there was any doubt left in her. Thoughts of torture and death didn't even ruffle her feathers. She blinked slowly, strong waves of strength coursing through her body. The previous hunger and pain had disappeared, leaving behind only cool determination.

Abruptly, there was a heavy shuffling and her eyes darted to the motionless door. The noise brought no fear to her heart. Instead, she became calm with resolve. There was the sound of several locks clicking and then a loud creak as the door swung in. The hall light flooded into the dim room and cast shadows over the trio of male figures marching inside her cell. She never felt a temptation to duck away as they approached, even though their intentions were vividly clear with the weapons in their hands. _She was ready._


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Very emotional chapter. Hope I properly conveyed this scene._  
**

* * *

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

..

The three of them were dressed in dark suits with red ties, the emblem of infallibility. When they grabbed her arms, she was tempted to fight back. She would have loved to make their day harder, but there was no point to it. She needed to meet this with as much dignity as she could muster. Meeting their eyes indifferently, she allowed them to yank her to her feet and pull her to the door. Stepping into the small passage, she was faced with a long stairway. At the top, a figure stood in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the light behind his shoulders. Even with the pending doom ahead, she pushed her feet firmly into the steps and marched upwards.

Reaching the top, the waiting guard grabbed her right elbow while the man behind her grabbed her left. Another door was opened and suddenly she was in a larger, more familiar stairwell. She stumbled on the first step as her gaze swung around. "What?"

They had only pulled her up half a flight when she was shoved through another door. Her heart began to hammer as she immediately recognized the long hall. Her brown eyes darted to the end of the corridor. Her stomach dropped to her toes when she saw the open door at the end had a long crack through it. Someone had tried to glue it back together, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was the same door the Shogun had broken down. Looking beyond the archway, she could see the beautiful sanctuary waiting. She was in the same church she had visited days ago.

She swallowed nervously as she entered the white room and faced a crowd of over twenty individuals dressed in everyday street clothes. They were probably the men who had been hiding out in the storage unit across town. Their eyes gleamed hungrily at her appearance and the woman shivered under their following gaze. She had never seen a mob so thirsty for the blood of a stranger.

She was immediately dragged towards the stage where a man in a crisp black business suit waited. His dark hair was pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck and stray hairs fell over evergreen eyes. Clean shaven and without a single thread out of place, he looked like a model from some random advertisement. She guessed he was one of the high leaders from the Shogunate.

As he watched her stepped onto the platform, he studied her with a cool expression as if he was studying a mathematical problem instead of a prisoner. Fuu calmly met his gaze with shoulders pulled back. His dark eyes wouldn't intimidate her.

They offered her no warning as they shoved her to her knees. Her face nearly the met the floor when the harsh force impacted with her shoulder blades. She barely was able to catch her balance in time. Polished black shoes stepped into her view and tapped listlessly in her face. Fuu slowly followed the length of the dark slacks to glare up at the Shogun leader. _'I'm ready.'_

"I like you to know we chose this spot because of your visit here days ago." His tone was husky and amused. "Otherwise, we would have just brought you to our recent holdings in the store house."

She kept her voice silent. It was better he didn't know his words were making her stomach twist. This was his way of telling her that they had killed all of the church's occupants. Guilt bled through her as she envisioned them slaughtering the priest and nuns. Her only question was where they had hid the bodies.

He waited a few minutes for her respond, his eyes calculating the smallest motion she made. With a smooth roll of his wrist, he unbuttoned the front of his jacket and revealed the black satin handle of his handgun. His eyes never left her face as he pulled it free of its holster. To his annoyance, she didn't flinch or act surprise. Her brown eyes didn't even widen in apprehension of her approaching end. The gun clicked loudly as the safety was released. She waited patiently as the gun targeted her forehead.

"God couldn't save them," his deep baritone drawled. "And he won't save you now."

"If I am meant to die, then there is nothing I can do to stop it." She stated evenly.

"You're wrong." He interjected. "Rebuke his name and I shall let you live."

Fuu's eyes darkened, "You know I won't."

The man's face tightened. "Aren't you afraid?"

Moving her eyes away from the man, she looked past his shoulders towards the front of the church. The sky was dark behind the colorful stained glass window and she felt slightly comforted knowing God had marked her time of tribulation. Her voice replied with passionate strength, _"For Your sake we are killed all day long; We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter (Romans 8:36)."_

He pressed his gun painfully into her brow and gnashed his teeth together. "You will die for nothing. No one will ever know you existed."

_"Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come…"_

"Why give up your life for a God who has abandoned you?"

_"Nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:37-39)."_

Angry shouts began to rise in the pews. The crowd was growing frustrated with her resolve to hold to her faith. They began to demand dark things, but Fuu ignored them and kept her eyes on the cross displayed in the painted glass. One of the other guards stepped forward and the leader pulled his gun away long enough for the man to strike her across the face. Her head spun to the side and she blinked rapidly to see beyond the hot pain spreading through her temple. Grimacing, she returned forward and gazed again at the window.

_"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service (Romans 12:1)."_ Her voice was beginning to stumble. Her body was catching up to the fact that the end was near.

The same guard moved to the pulpit and removed a steel pipe. She saw the glint in the corner of her eye, but she clamped her teeth together and never dared to glance towards him. He drifted to stand behind her and the pipe whistled as it came down powerfully against her back. A small cry escaped from her lips as she slammed forward onto her palms. Her limbs shook as the pain rattled all the way to her toes. Tears filled her eyes and she whimpered. She was not so holy as to be free of pain. Even Jesus felt it on the cross.

Swallowing two big gulps of air, the boxer carefully pulled back onto her knees. _"My soul thirsts for G-God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night. W-While they continually say to me, 'Where is your God' (Psalms 42:2-3)."_

The leader slapped his gun across the other side of her face. This wasn't what they wanted. They wanted her to break down into childish sobs. They wanted to hear her pleas for mercy and her whimpers. They wanted the people who called themselves holy to reveal their true colors and she was walking that fine line at the moment as her words slurred. This was when martyrs became cowards. He had seen men three times her age buckle from the beatings. Their faces had been marred with blood as they begged to live. Each person was different, but it was merely about finding the correct button to press.

There were only a handful of reactions he dragged out of them. Some broke on the first day, guiltily exclaiming they were only using God as a mask. The second reaction was the ones who could not hold against the physical punishment and gave into the weakness of flesh. They were the ones to last only a few days of torture after years of faithful devotion to the Christian god. The chance that someone could holdout till the final hour of judgment was rare, but when it did it was startling to witness. To see eyes full of fire connect and a battered voice breath a last proclamation of faith made his stomach sink with disgust. How could people be so foolish to believe in an image? An image built by the mouth of men?

_"If you are reproached for the name of Christ, b-blessed are you, for the Spirits of glory and of G-God rests upon you. On their part He is blasphemed, but on your part He is glorified (James4:14)."_

He had once been tempted by the sweet idea of a Christ. He had listened to the preachers speak of a Heaven meant for the believers, but years of cold reality had turned him away. The suffering of humanity was too cruel on his heart and he had hardened against the voice of God. He couldn't accept the misery surrounding him, suffocating him. No one would ever allow such heartache. He was one of many who had buckled under the pressure of life. Friends and family had suffered through tortures of both disease and emotional abuse, and after watching the world tear apart each day of his life, his heart had withered. He could find no energy in his body to kneel. It was far easier to hate a god than to accept the way things were.

That's why he didn't regret each time he pulled the trigger. When he watched them break down at his feet, he would feel that much closer to making everything right. He felt like the missionaries he killed. He was pulling people out of the pit of lies. He was opening their eyes to the fact that there was no one to bail them out of their troubles. They were alone.

When he was faced with the rare individuals who were brainwashed beyond his reach, violent rage overtook him. To him, they were the reason the world was so screwed up. They kept trying to give false hope to a dark, thirsty world. They were bringing friction when they should let people live and die the way they wanted.

"Do you really think He's up there watching? Do you think He gives a shit that you're down here? Being beaten?" He ranted as the familiar burning surged into the front of his skull. The gun shook in her face and Fuu's eyes dropped involuntarily to the dark barrel.

The air cracked with thunder and his arm jerked backwards in recoil as the girl's screamed was swallowed by the cheers. She crumbled into a sobbing mess onto the floor, clutching at her bloody arm. The second bullet taken in her life felt twice as painful as the first. Sprawled across the stage, she stared dully pass the edge of the floor at the faces who grinned with excitement. She suddenly felt very detached from the world. She knew if she could have opened the doors she would have been basked with the life of pedestrians and cars. Even though it was only a few inches of wood separating her from the outside, she felt miles away, and as she laid there fading with each gallon of blood that poured out of her arm, she wondered what her ex-gangster was doing. Was he thinking of her? Was he worried?

Her eyes slid close and she allowed herself to dream he was.

Abruptly, a hand rudely tangled into her oily hair and yanked her up from the comfortable floor. The room spun as she was forced to kneel once more before the smoking gun. She was too disoriented to keep herself up straight so hands pitched forward to keep her steady. Their hands felt hot against her cold skin and she wondered if dying felt the same no mattered how it happened. Did you always grow cold? Did the world always grow dark? Or does it just blink out as easily as flipping a switch?

She numbly met the furious face of her tormentor. Silver danced in her vision.

_'God, how does a man reach this point in his life?'_ The cheering grew faint as shapes turned gray.

_'How does it come to this? When man hates **You** enough to kill?' _She wavered on her knees. _'Is there any hope left for them?'_

There was a second crack of thunder and a rip of excruciating pain, this time through her ribs. She didn't scream. She folded into herself and collapsed. The world was thrown into a whirl of black and white. Something solid hit her back and a colorless light shined in her failing eyes. As she slipped away, she saw a shape flutter into her line of vision and lower towards her. The form turned black against the light and Fuu realized she was seeing wings. Whether they were crows or angels, she couldn't be sure.

_"F-Father, into Your h-hands I c-commit my spirit,"_ she mouthed silently. _"L-Luke 23:46."_

She exhaled and bowed her head just as the winged creature swallowed her sight.


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: Sorry for the long update. I spent the past weekend at DNOW. I had hoped to update before than, but I hadn't quite finished. So once I got back, I was too pumped over the events of the weekend to write. Anyways, Enjoy. _  
**

* * *

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 10 **

* * *

_"There wasn't anything left worth mentioning at the storage facility. They must have moved."_

_"Damn it."_

_"You sure you checked everywhere at the safe house?"_

_"For the last f— time I looked."_

_Lapse of silence. "Really looked?"_

_"Would you shut the hell up about the f— safe house?"_

_"I should have visited you in jail. She wouldn't be in the Shogun's hands if I had been there."_

_"Listen bastard, she was fine until she skipped out. I was doing a damn good job of protecting her. I don't need your girlie ass."_

_"Then why did you call me?"_

_Another lapse of silence, this time on the opposite end. "Shut up."_

_"We need to go back to the safe house to double check for clues."_

_"Hell no! I told you there's nothing to find!"_

_"Mugen, it's been two days. What do you suggest?"_

_"…"_

_"We could use Momo."_

_"Momo's a f—mutt. Not a bloodhound."_

_"We're out of options."_

_"Wait!"_

_"What?" a shrewd drawl. _

_"The gangs will know about the Shogunate."_

_"…gangs?"_

_"Listen, four eyes. If anyone steps in on gang turf, someone is bound to know. Fuu's friend said the Shogun had figured out that we were in the neighborhood so they had to be sniffing close by. I doubt the gang lords would have challenged any of the Shogun, but they would have kept some type of watch on them."_

_"Maybe I was wrong."_

_"Wrong?"_

_"You can actually use your brain for more than fighting."_

_"Shut the hell up."_

_"I'll meet you at the corner of your apartment."_

_"F—that.. I'm not waiting for your slow ass."_

**_Click_**

* * *

.. 

The pool hall a block away from the apartment complex was a hole in the wall. The roaches could attest to it. Not that he gave a shit. He had slept in rooms filled with rats. It was the reason he fell asleep with gloves on. The damn rats like to nibble on your fingers while you slept. So when he walked into the hall called "8 Slick," he was in his element.

The small bell on the door sang softly as it closed behind him. Its gentle nature seemed misplace in the ratty building, but he knew it was dare to warn the owner of visitors. The bell gave them some time to hide the drugs. His hard eyes swept over the room meeting each glare with mild indifference. There were five of them plus the guy behind the counter. Normally that would mean the odds were in his favor, but he guessed there were about half a dozen more in the back room.

"That's the guy!"

The voice was irritably familiar in the ex-gangster's memory and he realized he had picked the perfect building. Swiveling to the left, he openly glared at the mongrel ducking behind his older, rougher version. Mugen gave up trying to scare the boy and studied the brother. The man was a few inches taller than the ex-gangster and broader shoulder. Tattoos covered the full length of his arms and he wore tattered jeans and a red tank. Decked out with muscles bulging off his arms and chest, the guy looked ready to take an eighteen wheeler head on.

Mugen's smirk twisted darkly. He had taken on men twice his size. Abruptly, his smirk dropped as he reexamined the tattoos covering the gang leader's forearms. He recognized those from somewhere.

"My little brother says you're a Ryu-kuuian." The guy stated lazily, rubbing the blue square on the end of his pole stick while his eyes watched the ex-gangster. "That true?"

Mugen strolled further into the room and chuckled dryly, "No one lies about being a Ryu-kuuian. Gets you killed faster than the drugs."

The blonde calmly tossed the chalk onto the table. "People have done it. Especially a few foolish kids. Don't think the Ryu-kuuians would care this far out."

Mugen gave a feral grin, ignoring the pair of men covertly drifting towards the door. They thought they had a chance if they surrounded him. Mugen leaned casually on the edge of the leader's table, picking up an unfinished cigarette in the ash tray. Stealing a drag, the ex-gangster leveled a steady gaze on the man, enjoying how his brow pinched in irritation. It was dangerous to get between a man and his hand-made cigarette. Pushing the heavy taste out through his nostrils, he replaced the marijuana. "As you can see sooner or later one us rolls through. We have a nose for trash."

Someone shuffled at his left, obviously taking the comment like he had hoped they would. Pushing off the table, he began to walk around the stained pool table. He noticed the counter man lower his hands out of view, probably reaching for a hidden gun.

"So what stick is up your ass to get you here, Ryu-kuuian?"

Mugen glanced towards one of the men to his right, a sign to the leader that he wasn't afraid to take his eyes off him.

"I'm looking for the Shogun." His smooth reply got the leader's eyebrows to jump. "They've been sniffing around here lately so I know you have an idea where they might be right now."

The nameless man followed him with a curious stare. "What would a Ryu-kuuian want from the Shogunate?"

Mugen lazily reached for the nearest billiard ball, the cue ball. "They stole my girl."

The blonde snorted. "No girl is worth the price of facing those bastards."

Mugen shrugged. "She's a pain in the ass, but I don't like it when people take my toys."

"Your funeral." No name chuckled darkly, propping his pool stick over his shoulders. His brother glanced nervously between the two. Mugen waited only two seconds before getting pissed.

"You going to tell me where you are?" he growled, hand gripping the cue ball tighter. "Or do I have to kick your ass?"

Blondie grinned slyly, his eyes bright and eager. "Now here's your problem, Ryu-kuuian. Normally, I wouldn't give a flying f— about the Shogun or telling you where they were. This is my turf and I don't like when people trespass, even you.

"However," he breathed. "The Shogun became good buddies with us recently. They wanted answers and in exchange we got some spending money."

Mugen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You were the informants."

"Might be." He joked lightly, ignoring the signs of trouble radiated from the ex-gangster. "Actually, we first told them shove it, but we saw the light when they waved the Franklins. We didn't know for certain she was here in this neighborhood until a couple of days ago."

Mugen scowled. What happened a couple of days ago?

"Where are they?" he snapped, sick of playing with the prissy, snot-nose.

"Don't know. Don't care." Blondie replied cheerily, grating his nerves even worse. "I lost interest after they moved out of my property."

"Wrong answer, smart ass!" Mugen hissed before chunking the cue ball. With perfect accuracy, the white ball cracked into the man's forehead. From there everything became a wild flurry of chaos. His best setting when it came to dog fights.

The guy behind the counter was the next one he took out, mainly because he was the first to whip out a gun, a rifle no less. One hand went for his gun beneath his jacket while the other wrapped around another billiard ball. With a flick of his wrist, the ball flew in a perfect line, straight into the side of the rifle barrel. The rain of bullets narrowly missed Mugen and plowed directly into the charging man behind him. Mugen had put a hole in his head before he could let loose another round.

Regrettably, he wasn't able to keep his gun from being knocked from his hand when he turned to face the next challenger. The pool stick broke over his gun wielding hand, shooting hot waves up his arm.

"Shit!" He howled. Never loosing steam, Mugen brought his uninjured fist to punch the attacker in the face. Bone crunched and blood sprayed over his knuckles. As the guy was swearing loudly and clutching his broken nose, Mugen roundhouse kicked him in the temple. Mugen grinned sadistically as his concealed steel toe made a vicious dent in the man's head.

_'Three down. No, four. Stupid kid won't do anything.'_

It was that moment a door cracked open and a flood of men poured out from the back hall. They must have heard the gun fire. Mugen straightened, smirk spreading. He was finally going to get a real fight. All fun flew out the window, however, when a wall of guns lifted. Mugen's face fell in disgust as he dove behind the pool table. "Shit!"

The volley sounded like a clump of firecrackers had been set off. The poor table didn't stand up against the rain of bullets. Shattered wood burst over his head, but the man didn't flinch. He calmly snatched up his gun which miraculously landed only a short distance away from the table. Causally rolling onto his belly, he aimed at the feet in plain view between the stout table legs. After carefully counting his bullets and the number of reachable feet, he shot off a full magazine.

The noise quickly switched from gunfire to shouts of pain and confusion. Mugen took his window of opportunity and grabbed his surprise present. He had wanted to save it for when he found the Shogunate, but he could always make another one later. Cracking life into his lighter, the ex-gangster lit his homemade grenade. Once the ripped clothe caught fire, he tossed the bottle of seventy-proof vodka over the table, producing another round of cries before the explosion of heat and thunder.

Taking burst of sound as his signal, he rolled to the side of the table with a reloaded gun. He took out seven guys before they could regroup. By that point, he had surged forward and was knocking out the guns faster than they could shoot. Flames were rapidly consuming the room, but he could care less. He had fought in a burning bar before after all.

Switching hastily between fist and gun, Mugen had killed eight of the ten men in minutes. Spinning on his heel, he found his gun pointing to the gang leader and his wimpy brother. His lips twisted. "Didn't think I could get through all your dogs that quick."

The air rippled with foul odor as the fire began to eat the walls. The kid began to tug wildly at his older sibling's forearm, his head swinging in every direction. "Marcus, we gotta get out!"

"Shut up!" Blondie snapped, eyes angrily on Mugen's gun. "I die and you loose any chance of finding your girl."

"Talk fast then." Mugen growled cheerily. "I get what I want and maybe I forget to shoot you."

The rafters creaked sharply, but no one dared a peek. Marcus shifted his weight uncomfortably. His blue eyes darted to his dead comrades when their clothes began to catch fire. His nose wrinkled when stench of burning flesh filled the room. He glared mutinously at the ex-gangster. "I heard they moved closer up town. Took over some church on Hicky Court."

"A church?" Mugen scowled. "Are they stupid?"

"Who gives a shit?" Marcus grumbled, eyes darting past the gangster's shoulder. "As long as they're out of my hair."

Mugen's stomach abruptly dropped. Being a man of instinct, the ex-gangster fell forward. A gun cracked inches above his head and an angry shot followed. Mugen didn't stop to check what had happen. He spun and threw out his leg. His shin connected with the back of someone's knees and then a heavy body crashed to the floor. His gun was instantly on the new figure. _'Must have miscounted. Wouldn't be the first time.'_

The ex-gangster's face darkened worse than any storm cloud when he saw the attacker's face. _'Garrett.'_

He should have recognized the tattoos sooner on the leader's arms. They were identical to the ones on the ass from the bar. They were gang symbols.

From his vulnerable position on the floor, the familiar blonde smirked. "Hey, dipstick."

"I knew I should have killed you earlier," Mugen rumbled. "Course, thanks to you. Fuu ain't here to stop me now."

"Bitch deserved it." Garrett spat angrily, acting immune to the threat of gleaming metal in his face. "She crossed a line."

"So did you when you gave her up to the Shogun." The gun shifted and Mugen fired without much else of a warning. Garrett screamed bloody murder, crumbling into a fetal position with his hands between his legs. Mugen hurried to turn back on Marcus and his brother, convinced Garrett wouldn't get up. The blonde was clutching his bleeding shoulder, his face a pasty white.

"Damn it!" he hissed, blue eyes screwing shut. "Stupid asshole!"

His younger brother was shocked into silence. His eyes were round and staring at the blood pouring out of his invincible sibling. Probably never heard a gun go off, let alone see anyone get shot by one. Mugen relaxed, but kept his gun up.

"What church?" he asked tonelessly.

Marcus glared at him through the corner of his eye. He obviously wanted to tear the ex-gangster apart, but had little to no chance of success with his arm.

"I don't know." he replied heatedly through clenched teeth. "I only heard they took over some church on Hicky Court. It was enough for me."

"Too bad for you," Mugen answered darkly, shooting two bullets into the man. He fell with a satisfying thud. The boy never made a sound as Mugen headed for the door.

His feet slowed when they reached the side of the castrated thug. Acknowledging that his gun wasn't empty, his stormy eyes studied the unaware man. His pounding heart wanted to kill him. His had so much blood on his hands that it didn't matter to add one more death. Yet, he stepped away, leaving him to the ravenous flames.

Killing was his way of showing supremacy over the challenger. Garrett was not worth the waste of anymore bullets. He had pissed him off, but he doubt the man had the balls to do it again, especially after the perfect shot he gave.

With a brooding expression marring his face, the ex-gangster strolled leisurely out of the ratty pool hall. Any thoughts of the fire and remaining occupants were nonexistent in his mind as he exited. The bell rang merrily behind him.

* * *

..

**_Ring._**

**_Click._**

_"Where are you?"_

_"Heading out of 8 Slick."_

_"Found something?"_

_"Get to Hicky Court. She's in some church."_

_"A church? How ironic."_

_"Whatever."_

_"Which church? There are three."_

_"Shit."_

**_Click followed by a dial tone._**

* * *

..

Jin was surprisingly wrong for once. There weren't three churches on Hicky Court; there were four. Mugen whirled angrily in the center of the massive court, his face darting between the opposing buildings. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Pulling up off his motorcycles, he began to debate where to start. One was Baptist, one was Assembly of God, one was some random "Zion" name, and the last was a Catholic church. He and Fuu had visited each on different weekends. She preferred the doctrine of the Baptist, but loved the old cathedral sanctuary of the St. Mary's. She told him once that whenever she felt the urge to go pray at a church she would choose St. Mary's because of the romantic atmosphere.

Mugen's scowl deepened. He was tempted to wait for Jin, but he didn't care to waste any more time. He had already lost two more days trying to smoke out the gang leaders. There was no evidence to prove she was dead or alive, but his gut was twisting so tight, he couldn't stand waiting. Besides, the sky was growing dark with storm clouds. He really didn't want to deal with the rain.

Randomly selecting the Baptist Church as the first of the four, he jogged into the street. He hadn't gotten halfway across asphalt when a distinct brown four-door Oldsmobile rumbled out in front of him. Piercing blue eyes stared at him through the passenger window, stopping the ex-gangster where he stood. Mugen grew irritated when the professional fighter than stop his car and instead, parallel park in front of the Catholic Church. Cursing, Mugen jogged through the traffic, flipping off several of the angry drivers as he headed for the car. By the time he got there, Jin had locked the car.

The two men stared silently at each other, almost unsure how to approach the situation surrounding their reunion. Jin didn't look much different from that last day. His jeans were new, along with the gray tee, but the navy cotton jacket sporting the faded silver koi fish in the top left corner was exactly the same. He was even wearing his white boxing tape on his hands.

The fighter's thin lips that were usually set in a solid unreadable line twisted the smallest measure upward. His eyes _almost_ twinkled behind his fake glasses. "It's good to see you again, Mugen."

That same toneless, calculating voice.

"I'm surprise Shino was still hanging around the convent." Mugen commented dryly, shifting towards the church doors. "Figured you and her would have the white picket fence as soon as we all separated."

Jin fell into the familiar spot on the ex-gangster left, days of old flashing briefly. "She fell in love with the life there. She wasn't ready to leave when I showed up."

"Love suffers long," Mugen mumbled beneath his breath as he reached for the door handle.

Jin's trained ears caught the slight muttering and swiveled his head to appraise his old friend's profile. "1st Corinthians 13:4."

The door had only opened a small crack when Mugen's tan fingers stiffened on the handle. Jin's eyes watched the man carefully, uncertain. After a stretched minute, the fighter pulled his face back towards the doors.

"I figured Fuu would follow her father's faith," he commented softly. "Never thought you would look beyond the philosophy of a bullet."

"Don't start pointing fingers." Mugen growled. "Sounds like you've been reading into it yourself."

Jin's pale fingers, the visible opposite in color to the ex-gangster's, tugged on the opposite door. "It's hard to ignore something that surrounds you daily."

The ex-gangster's clenched the smooth brass. He understood perfectly.

Suddenly, the recognizable sound of a gun pushed through the entrance's cracked opening. Both fighters flinched, the single thread of fear passing through each of their hearts. The doors were ripped open simultaneously.

They lurched forward, stepping into the small room lined with colorful pamphlets and smiling photographs. Another set of doors stood before them as the entrance to the sanctuary. Mugen reached them first.

He had swung them both open just as a second gunshot fired. He could barely explain the sensation racing through him when his brain caught up with his eyes. It was like something had reach down his throat and stole his inners. In the last few months of visits, he had never felt such wrongness within the white walls of the huge building. The sanctuary was raped of the holiness it had glowed. There was a cold darkness clouding the pews, instead, with carnal shouts of satisfied pleasure rising from the seats.

Looking beyond the crowd, he stared numbly at the scene playing in slow motion of the platform. He was vaguely aware of the black suits acknowledging his presence. In the corner of his eyes, he could see them frantically scrambling towards them, intent to kill him and Jin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why they hadn't guarded the front doors. The rest of his attention was consumed on the sight of smoke and falling brown. The sight of red followed by the glint of metal was the last detail he would later recall before his hand wrapped around his P99.

His magazine was empty in a short minute. His gun clicked loudly above the screams and shouts, but he was too wound up to notice the trigger was no longer producing any bullets. His brain couldn't keep up with his surroundings as random flashes erupted with thunder.

A rough hand grappled his shoulder, dragging him to the floor. He was faintly aware that Jin was trying to pull him out of danger's path. Dozens of sharp thuds clipped the doors behind them as they crouched low to the floor. He heard the professional fighter beside him reloading his handgun and Mugen mechanically followed his example. Jin was firing long before him. The remaining half of the mob had ducked behind the pews, taking turns shooting over and around their shields.

Unconsciously, Mugen's dark eyes darted to the abandoned figure sprawled out stage. Her head had lolled to the side, her face turned away. There was too much blood.

Life snapped back into the ex-gangster as he tumbled to the left behind his own pew of protection. He didn't even care what the Jin did at that point. He had never included the professional fighter in his plans before and he sure as Hell wasn't about to let the girlie ass get in on his fight now. Every man in that church was his to kill.

Shooting pass the opposite end of his pew, the ex-gangster charged the nearest Shogun member. The guy scrambled to raise the barrel of his rifle at the approaching man, but Mugen had already shot him between the eyes. The grungy dressed member collapsed silently to the floor. Mugen hurried to retrieve the automatic rifle. After pushing his handgun back into its hostel, the ex-gangster turned on the clumped masses. The thirst for death was heavy on his tongue.

Surprisingly, when the bodies began to drop like flies, there was a deep sense of emptiness. His teeth were gnashing together as the rain of bullets leapt from the rifle. Blood splattered the air and lives were cut off from the world, but the fulfillment of each death didn't bring the usually buzz to his senses. Even when the last man had stopped moving, Mugen kept shooting at the corpses.

"Mugen!"

The lifeless bodies jumped with the powerful blows. That familiar pull of adrenaline was pulsing through his veins. He always felt a surge before a fight, the powerful thrum of his heart against his ribs when he relished a kill. But the rush wasn't slowing down like it normally did after the fight was over. It was still pounding against his temple, reaching the point of painful. He didn't understand why he was so empty even after all of the men were dead.

"Mugen, stop!"

The ex-gangster roared with fury, turning the gun on the ceiling, the pews, anything in the church. The pull to fight was overpowering! The crashing chandelier went unnoticed. It didn't stop the pang in his stomach. Why was he still hungry for blood?

"Mugen!"

The bullets whizzed higher and broke through the rails of the balcony. Splinters rain everywhere along with plaster. It was falling like snow, or maybe tears.

Suddenly, the stain glass window at the front of the church, the one with the cross, was overcome with bullets and shattered. Mugen's finger slipped off the trigger as he saw the symbol break into a thousand pieces. He didn't know why the image struck a cord.

Maybe he was angry. Maybe it was God he was angry at…because it was God's fault for abandoning her.

_'What God?' _His hand clenched tighter around the rifle, knuckles turning white. _'Why would I hate someone that doesn't exist?'_

"Mugen, she's still alive."

His face swung slowly to the stage, focusing on the fighter who was hastily wrapping his gray jacket around her. The ex-gangster blinked and the hollowness in his chest disappeared. Without thinking, he rushed to the edge of the platform. The rifle clattered loudly to the floor as Mugen carelessly threw it away and knelt next to her limp form.

"She is?" his voice came out rougher than normal.

She was extremely pale, even for her. Her hair was greasy from the lack of a shower and, was it just him, or was she a thinner than normal?

"She took one to the arm." Jin assessed darkly, his brow pinched as he tugged a knot over her arm. "The other one…it's too high."

Mugen didn't reply. His eyes were set on the torn, red hole in her once lavender shirt. Jin glanced to him before continuing. "We need to get her to a hospital."

Mugen snapped into action. It was if his brain was on autopilot. His hands slid hastily under the girl and pulled her awkwardly to his chest. Not once in all the times that he had slept with the many women of his past had he ever pull a woman up against his chest. They had pressed their faces into him, but he had never pulled them closer. More often than not he had pushed them away. The feel of the petite body against him was strange. It didn't help that she was bleeding all over him.

Connecting his eyes with the other fighter, Mugen nodded. "Your car."

Jin made a small noise of agreement and shot off for the door with the ex-gangster on his heels. Tumbling out into the street, they were met with a small crowd and a wet sky. Beneath the cover of their colorful umbrellas, people were pointing, talking on the phone, or snapping photos with their cells. The shattered window must have tipped them off. Mugen tried to shield the girl from the rain, but it was pouring like the flood in Genesis. Jin easily pushed through the inquisitive crowd with the help of pointing Fuu's bloody form to the spectators. Both fighters could hear the approaching sirens and feared the outcome of the days of events. Dropping into the back while Jin hopped into the driver's seat, the two men couldn't think beyond driving to the hospital at the fastest speed the Oldsmobile would allow.

* * *

_**A/N: Drama, Drama, Drama...**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Woohoo! I finally got this chapter out. Hope you enjoy.**  
_

* * *

_Through Smudged Glass_

_By angelwings1_

* * *

_Chapter 11_

* * *

For once in his life, the ex-gangster was glad to have the expertise of the professional fighter. If four-eyes hadn't been there, he wouldn't have gotten her to the hospital. He didn't even want to face the idea of what would have transpired if he had entered the church alone. Had he survived the bullets, he would most likely have condemned her to the pit of death. He wouldn't have realized she was still alive. He would have torn apart the church in overwhelming thirst, overlooking his one chance to save her.

Just like years ago, when they had threatened her life to his face and he was ready to step away and give up the chance to save her.

* * *

..

_"He's waiting for you at 337 Grace Avenue, the old church. If you take too long he'll start chopping her into pieces to mail back to you." A demonic sneer was flashed in his direction before the drug infested man hastened around the corner. "I can't promise you he's holding back his knife already."_

_"Stop trying to piss me off!" Mugen shouted, unable to think of a more articulate comeback. His fingers were tight around his gun as stared at the empty alley._

_He couldn't remember the last time he was so divided between decisions. He had one rule: think about yourself. At the present time, he wanted nothing more than to slaughter the haughty old man who they had seconds before been fighting. The stupid senior citizen had waltzed over and demanded a braw, but then played with the ex-gangster for the last hour, hardly honing up to the skills the geezer obviously possessed. It was infuriating. Mugen was going all out and the man slipped countless times out of his mark. _

_Mugen had tried every trick he had learned off the street, including his inventive break dancing fighting moves. Each was met with calm, infuriating evasion. Even his bullets were snickering at the ex-gangster as they grazed his flesh, purposely missing tempting flesh. Mugen could tell the man was a marksman by the way he handled his piece. The geezer was playing with him like he wasn't worthy of a real fight. _

_Mugen heaved in exertion, staring down the alleyway. He was man of instinct and gut reactions. Anger always overpowered his conscience, so he couldn't understand why he hesitated to turn to the old man. _

_"Go." Jin had commanded evenly, never turning his gun off the unnamed geezer, their assassin. Mugen looked towards his unofficial partner, confused. His hard eyes narrowed on the fighter's back. _

_How could his soul be split between two choices? He always had the urge to fight to live on the pumping adrenaline that made him feel the life hiding in his blood. How could he suddenly want to turn away from that urge to live? _

_"No, you go!" He commanded sounded oddly half-hearted. It was almost like he wanted to be refused. _

* * *

..

How else should he have responded? The stupid fighter had wanted him to go after her when it was obvious something was between the two. He had no desire to save another person's girl. He was not a knight of honor. He was pirate. He did things for him and no one else.

* * *

..

_His memory recalled the night before when they had camped under the railway. They had all intended to sleep before the big day when they would finish the last leg of their journey, but surprisingly, no one had slept. _

_Instead, his eyes had stayed open, watching Fuu discreetly stand from her sleeping bag and drift to the edge of the muddy river. When Jin had followed, Mugen decided to pretend he was still sleeping. He was curious to see what was becoming of his party. _

_They voices were too soft to distinguish what they were talking about, but they way her shoulders began to shake, the ex-gangster knew the small girl was crying. The world froze when the girl press her face into Jin's chest. To the ex-gangster, the sight was not surprising, just unexpected. She always kept her divided between the two fighters, never showing any more affection either one. Mugen guessed it was only a matter of time before she formed a girlish crush on one of them. _

_His eyes narrowed on the pair basked in the quiet moonlight. In the back of his mind, he knew she would turn towards the honorable knight for her choice. They always went for the knight. He might be seduction and danger, but a knight was the one who was dependable and self-sacrificing. All Mugen could be was a pirate, a man out for himself and his desires. _

_That night he accepted the truth of his fate: there would never be another chance. The only problem with his revelation was that he didn't know what that chance was._

* * *

..

Mugen cringed as he clutched the girl awkwardly against his chest. Why was his life flashing before his eyes? He wasn't the one bleeding to death.

The ex-gangster stared dully at the girl's pale face, watching the pain twisting across her face. He frowned when a particular wave of discomfort caused her to jerk her head and toss her wet hair. The dark tresses plastered against her cheek. His rough fingers immediately pushed them aside, but froze once he brushed the surface of her soft skin. He involuntarily He never thought anyone could feel so soft. Maybe it was her pure nature that reflected in her skin.

The car abruptly jerked to the left, forcing the ex-gangster to plant his hand against the window to steady him and their fragile cargo. "Damn it!"

"Sorry," Jin mumbled, eyes intently watching the road through the heavy sheet of rain. "The traffic's bad and this damn rain ain't helping."

"Whatever." Mugen snapped, shifting Fuu into a more comfortable position in his lap. "How much farther?"

Jin swerved right, tires squealing on the sleek road. "Two more blocks."

His cold eyes glanced up in the rearview mirror back at the ex-gangster. "How is she?"

Mugen shook his head as he looked to part of the jacket pressed against her chest. It was completely soaked dark with blood, looking almost black in comparison to the rest of its gray coloring.

"She won't stop bleeding." He replied bitterly, staring at the blood covering his fingers. He was surprised to notice her blood was just as dark as the blood of his enemies. He never thought she would bleed white, but his mind was having trouble working through the idea of her dying. The dark redness was cold evidence of a reality he never considered witnessing.

He faintly heard the sound of his friend turning on the car's blinker before a tight turn to the left. His jaw tightened with fury when someone blare their horn. He would love to face the asshole that had the nerve to honk at them.

Once they rolled under the overhang covering the entrance to the emergency room, Mugen pushed his car door open. He scrambled to lift the girl up to his chest as he went for the doors. A small group clumping at the glass door gasped when they spotted the bloody figure charging them.

"Move out of the f—way," he hollered, fully intent on trampling them if they ignored them. Luckily for the sake of their health, they hastily separated to let him pass. Flying through the self-opening doors, the ex-gangster's squealed to halt in the lobby, gaining the full attention of every nurse, security guard, and patient. His eyes darted between shocked faces, something he could only describe later as panic clawing up into his chest.

"I need a doctor!" He roared, heading towards the nearest nurse. Taking in the sight of bloody girl in his arms, the young brunette hastily slapped her hand on the nearby window, waking the first-year intern sitting by the intercom.

"Call Dr. Richard immediately!" she yelled, waving at the ex-gangster to follow her. The intern hastily grabbed for the white plastic phone and pressed in a set of numbers. In seconds her shaky voice filtered through the hospital intercom system.

"Dr. Richard to surgery! Dr. Richard to surgery!"

Reaching the side of a rollaway bed, the ex-gangster carefully followed the nurse's instruction and laid her out across the white cot. The red dots sprinkling across the canvas caught his eyes immediately, but he was pushed irritably away seconds after noticing by a new pair of nurses. Their gloved hands worked feverishly to undo the jacket and replace it with bandages. They each began shouted off different terms, most of which he couldn't follow except for the loud question: "Sir, was she shot?"

He nodded, dumbly. "Yea."

He one-word respond lacked the confidence he knew he had. He watched in confusion as a third pair hands hurried to shove some type of plastic balloon contraption into her throat. The head nurse began counting the unconscious girl's pulse as another pushed the bed towards a set of doors. One of the nurses raced to the walk and punched a set of numbers into the keypad, opening the way.

Mugen went to follow, but a newly arrived nurse stepped into his path. Raising both her hands, she blocked him from sidestepping her. "Sir! You can't go into surgery with her!"

"Like Hell!" he snapped, shoving her aside into the nearest wall. If he lost sight of her, then he knew he would never see her again alive.

"Security!" the banshee howled behind him. He raced for the closing doors, Fuu growing dangerously close to disappearing around the corner. He would have easily made it in if a pair of hands hadn't latched onto his forearms. The ex-gangster released a furious cry as he pulled to stop a few feet from salvation. He never took his eyes off the shrinking figures ahead as he easily flipped the cop over his hip. The pleasing sound of the large man slamming against the wet floor thrilled the ex-gangster as he sought a final, desperate attempt at slipping through the doors' narrow opening.

A new, thinner set of arms locked over his chest and drug him backwards, igniting explosive anger through his blood. Mugen clawed at his partner's locked hands as he grimly observed the doors closing.

"F—!" he shouted, immediately released from the man. Whirling on the nurse that had stopped him before, the ex-gangster yanked her up onto her feet by the collar of scrubs. "Open the f—door!"

"Mugen!"

"Sir, let go of the woman or I'll have to detain you!"

"Sir, only patients are only allowed in surgery!"

"Open the f—door!" he thundered louder, sending a wave of fear through the lobby. Automatically, his hand went for his gun, but Jin stopped his wrist.

Fiery eyes connected with cold calmness. "Don't."

Mugen flung his wrist away from his concealed gun, ignoring how the officer gave him a pointed look. The ex-gangster glared at his comrade. _'If you don't do something, then I will.'_

Jin calmly stepped around the heaving fighter and confronted the disheveled nurse. "Is there anyway we can observe the surgery? Aren't there normally windows for visitors to see through?"

The nurse blushed, glancing nervously at the ex-gangster behind him. "Yes, but it is for immediate family mem—"

"We are her brothers, madam." Jin quickly seized the opportunity. "Please, show us the way."

Nurse glanced a second time at Mugen. If she doubted Jin's word, then she decided it was better to appease the shaking ex-gangster than challenge the unstable situation.

"This way." She instructed softly, her pace measured.

Jin gave Mugen a stern look before stepping forward. _'Don't try anything.'_

* * *

..

_"Okay, its time to give her back."_

_"The f—we will." The oldest brother yelled, swinging his gun back to her head. "You still don't get it. We're in this to make you suffer!"_

_The ex-gangster took a slow step through the door-less front entrance, the shadows creeping over his wet form. Even though blood was trailing down a bruised cheek, Mugen didn't appear the least bit tired. Every muscle in his body was worn and stretched, but he wouldn't let them know it. _

_Fuu's large brown eyes were frozen on him, disbelief evident in their depths. He could not bring his anger forth to challenge the lack of trust she held for him. He was even surprised his feet had led him to the abandoned church. _

_"Who are you?" he questioned, voice low and unreadable. _

_"Who are we?!" the druggie shrieked, his grip tightening on his gun. "You might have forgotten us, but we haven't forgotten you. Every minute of our lives has been dedicated to seeing your torturous death." _

_The ragged man lifted his free hand to his eye patch. "We three bother's have been marked by you. Don't you see?"_

_Mugen didn't reply. _

_The druggie gnashed his teeth together. The heavy dose of crack he had inhaled was beginning to hit its climax, causing a violent tremble through his limbs. His free hand instinctively went for the stash in his pockets. "You might have failed to pull a heist on that bank years ago, but you still survived. Unlike ourselves."_

_Mugen's eyes slowly widened as he remember the heist. It had been the time when Mukuro had suggested to hide in one the bank's vehicles. Everything had gone well until Mugen's traitorous partner unknowingly double-crossed him and left him in police custody. The ex-gangster had barely survived execution from the syndicate that owned the bank. _

_"We lost our security jobs, our reputations, may I not forget to mention my eye."_

_Mugen looked at the man, trying to recall his face. It was so long ago and everything had happened in mere seconds._

_"It was my brothers that suffered the worse." The nameless man smirked, wickedly. His chest heaved with drug based adrenaline. _

_"They lost their minds."_

_Mugen's eyes snapped to the shadowed figure slumped in the wheelchair. The second man had blood shot eyes and his head lolled forward. The odd expression of defeated acceptance made him appear like a patient at a nursing home waiting for death. _

_ The ex-gangster returned his blank stare to the leader of the brother's. A cold smile crept up his blood face. "Well, that one brother of yours. I already sent him to the bottom of the river."_

_"You, asshole!" the man screeched, pushing the gun closer to his captive. "You best understand that we don't care about this girl's life!"_

_"Wait." _

* * *

..

Mugen could feel the blood crusting stiffly on his shirt. In the back of his mind, he knew he would have to throw it away. As he watched the white coats surround the bed on the other side of the smudged glass, every small detail pushed to the forefront of his attention.

Like how for such a clean place, the janitors had overlook the fingerprints marring the window.

Or how Jin never showed a lack of control.

Or how there were three male doctors versus two females.

Or how the blood reached for every blank patch of white.

Or how age hadn't changed the childlike features of her face.

Mugen wasn't sure what to do, how to act, or even what to think. He just stood there hanging on the minute after the next. His sanity was writhing under the surface of control, threatening to erupt towards a dark direction. His fists clenched tighter at his side, attempting to hold onto some invisible leach that connected to his soul.

He swallowed when he saw one of the machines began to blink wildly. The erratic movement over her still form was disturbing to watch. His instincts demanded him to burst inside, to fight in her stead, but this wasn't a fight of strength.

Not the strength he possessed.

Another machine began to pulse with faint noise. A hand waved to an attendant. A body moved into view, blocking all sight of the boxer except for her sleeping face. The ex-gangster realized they were pulling off her shirt. Electronic paddles were soon rolled forward and all the doctors grew still. The paddles disappeared from sight and suddenly Fuu jerked.

Mugen took an involuntarily stepped forward. His gut became lead when he saw the heart monitor slip into a straight line.

Again the paddles disappeared behind the white coats and the girl jerked again.

The line jumped twice before dropping back to flat.

Again the paddles, except this time, Fuu barely flinched.

The line didn't stir.

Mugen heard Jin suck in a harsh breath.

After another unsuccessful attempt to restart the girl's heart, the doctors slowly straightened. Gloves were coming off and Mugen felt his heart pick up.

"Wait." He mumbled, unable to believe they were giving up.

* * *

..

_"Wait. I'll give up my gun if you let her free."_

* * *

..

The ex-gangster glanced to his friend, gauging his reaction. The fighter's eyes were close, his jaw tight and controlled.

"Wait!" the man exclaimed louder as he saw the doctors begin to turn away. Jin shifted beside him as he slammed both hands on the glass. Heads snapped up and he began to pound feverishly. "Wait!"

"I'm sorry, sir." The words crackled over the intercom. "We weren't able to save your sister. We're sorry."

_'Wait.'_

His fists connected over and over again, ready to break through the glass as if it would help the situation. Mugen grunted out his fury, his anger, his breaking barriers. He didn't know any other way to express the undistinguishable riot bursting through his soul. He fell back on his fists, trying to beat away everything he didn't want to face.

"Mugen."

"Shut the f—up!" he hollered. "Don't give me that holier than thou bullshit!"

He wanted to rip up the hospital, to turn over beds and shatter mirrors. He wanted to drink and to find a wench. He wanted to turn away and ignore it all.

His energy quickly seeped out of his limbs, stopping his excessive pounding. His fists squeaked loudly down the pane of dirty glass. He choked on a swallow of air as his eyes narrowed on her face. She didn't look dead. She wasn't gone yet.

_'Wait.'_

They could still do—

_'Wait.'_

—something.

His eyes screwed shut when the dark voice of his soul told him otherwise.

_'Wait… if you…'_

He raised his fist a final time, drawing a line into the metaphorical sand.

_'If you give her back…'_

His bloody fist slowly fell towards the glass.

_'If you give her back, you can have me.'_

When his hand connected dully with the window, something passed through his heart, almost like a hand. Mugen snapped his eyes open at the ghostly feel. He almost didn't notice the doctors scrambling back around her cot. Their expressions of disbelief made him blink blankly while the heart monitor began to beat rhythmically.

Jin stepped closer to the window. "Is she—"

Before the question could be asked, a pair of brown eyes fluttered opened.

Mugen waited as her head gradually shifted in his direction. Her glassy eyes focused on him. He was surprise to see tears trailing down her white cheeks. The world abruptly became mute as the corner of her mouth flipped upwards. He gasped for new air, his body starved for oxygen. After he blinked, however, her eyes were closed and her face turned back to the ceiling as if she had never smiled.

* * *

..

_Why should the nations say,_

_"Where is their God?"_

_Let there be known among the nations in our sight_

_The avenging of the blood of Your servants which has been shed._

_Let the groaning of the prisoner come before You;_

_According to the greatness of Your power_

_Preserve those who are appointed to die._

_Psalm 79:10-11_

* * *

..

"We're not really sure how she survived. We had already recorded her death at 19:45."

"How is she now?"

"Considering that she died, she's doing fine."

"Just _fine_? Wouldn't that mean she was doing excellent?"

The doctor sighed and rubbed the back of his head. His eyes darted between the two attentive men. He had done his share of messenger jobs, but it didn't make it easier talking to patients' love ones. Ducking his eyes to his clipboard, the man pretended to read the information he already knew. "The bullet in her chest was in close proximity to her spine. In fact, we think the bullet should have passed completely through her back, but got stopped by her spinal column. It's a miracle in itself that the bullet didn't do any severe damage."

"What the hell are you getting at?" Mugen demanded curtly.

The doctor lifted his face, his features schooled. "Taking the bullet out proved…_complicated_. Some of her nerves…"

His words trailed off upon seeing the way their shoulders tensed. Drawing in a breath, the doctor continued softer. "She might never be able to walk again."

* * *

..

Mugen paced the stretch of hallway aid outside her hospital room. He was unable to enter, but he also couldn't be still. There was itching need to do something.

His mind was tangling in several looping thoughts, most of which circulated around what had happened two days ago in surgery. He was unsure of how to weigh the results of his recent pleas: _'If you give her back, you can have me.'_

His hands rubbed at his pockets, seeking to duck in their confines while at the same time being too jittery to stay still long enough.

Jin had left to check on police activity. It was likely the entire force was out looking for witnesses of the slaughter left in the church. With all the spectators they had met on the square when they had departed, Jin was convinced the police would soon be on their heels. One simple search for a hospital report on a shot female would easily lead the force to their door.

It was poor excuse to leave her, but Mugen didn't care to challenge him. His mind was too busy trying to will his hand into turning her doorknob.

His eyes stopped on her door, infuriated that he was held back by a simple block of wood. His jaw clenched in determination and grabbed for the handle. The ex-gangster knew it only took a second to open the door, but it seemed like a full day passed before the room was revealed to his eyes.

More so, it took another hour to locate her. He thought she would still be kept to the bed. She had been in and out of consciousness, mumbling half-words. When he looked to the window, he was stock-stilled to see her sitting in a wheelchair, staring out the window with dull eyes. Her profile was one of somber ponderings.

He was faintly aware that he had closed the door and had crossed half of the room before stopping on the edge of her sight. An open Bible laid in her lap, her finger limps over its black letters. He wondered where she had been able to find one.

Whatever determination had driven him into her room was suddenly stolen by the panic plaguing his brain. He didn't know what would happen when she saw him. He had thought of his entrance, but not the moment afterwards. The man stopped breathing as he felt the end of some great path standing between him and her.

* * *

..

_I love the Lord, because He has heard _

_My voice and my supplications._

_Because He has inclined His ear to me,_

_Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live._

_The pains of death surrounded me,_

_And the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me;_

_I found trouble and sorrow._

_Then I called upon the name of the Lord:_

_"O Lord, I implore You, deliver my soul!"_

_Psalm 116: 1-4_

* * *

_**A/N: Whoosh. The final chapter shall definitely be out before Christmas. **  
_


	12. Chapter 12

**_A/N: I apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. I recently was faced with the option of moving closer to school so I have been very busy deciding to move and living with two fairly new girls. With the business of Christmas and New Years plus the beginnings of a new apartment and a school semester, I was unable to get much writing down. Not to forget to mention, I only got internet three days ago. Happy Days._**

* * *

****

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

* * *

Through most of his life he had been a faithless man. He had never accepted the foolish thinking that the universe had a scheme, a grand order to life. The idea of his feet traveling on a particular path, leading up to some finale was too romantic and stupid in his brain. He had lost all stomach for the mystical idea when he seen the unofficial graveyard of his hometown.

The place was called the graveyard because of the corpses that would pile in the old playground. He was barely one when gang members began to use the abandoned yard as their spot for executions. By that point in his shadowed town, cops had given up trying to connect bodies to killers. Cops had become corrupt, gangsters elusive, and the town members became prisoners to the slums they could barely afford. Besides, who would look into the unfortunate murder of a prostitute or druggie? They had chosen their lifestyle, knowing the dangers. So the playground that had lost interest in the eyes of the children transformed into the gut wrenching graves of the town. By the time he was twelve, they had given up trying to bury the bodies.

And that is when the crows became the mascot of the slums.

Ever since he had first witnessed the scene of those ebony birds picking at the corpses, he would never again believe there was anything holy or spiritual left in the world. How could a child believe in a soul when he watched a crow tear out a man's brain through his eye socket?

Yet, years later he was beginning to reacquaint himself with the possibility that the universe could have been crafted into a wanted order. Yes, the images of the graveyard were flashing through his head as he stood in the hospital room watching her unaware form, but he couldn't shake the feeling of irony weighing down on his shoulders. Here he was, miles away from the wasteland he was raised in, hanging on the life of some girl he was fortunate enough to run into twice in his days. He had protected a life that wasn't his own. He had actually felt concern for someone after confidentially admitting more than once he would never do such a stupid deed. He was actually swaying close to insanity because he had grown accustom to another human being. When had his life flip drastically from no one to someone?

He swallowed unconsciously as he waited for her to notice him, feeling as if the world was watching the scene like a tv drama. They could sense the conclusion, almost guess what would transpire once her eyes found his, but he was left in suffocating anticipation like a new viewer to entire sketch. It was almost as if he had just been given the outline of a synopsis on the back of a dvd cover just before he had sat down to watch the final episode.

The world paused when she shifted again, this time towards him. Mugen's lungs shrunk and he could have sworn he felt a presence at his shoulder when her eyes lifted to the reflection in the window. She didn't even look surprise when she saw him.

Without turning around, she smiled and mumbled a weak, "Hey."

The ex-gangster swallowed again, tempted to offer an indifferent grunt like usual, but instead, choosing an emotionless return of greeting. "Hey."

Her eyes dropped to her lap, breaking contact as she gently closed the Bible. Arms moved uncharacteristically passed her armrests and fingers gripped newly discovered wheels. His chest tightened as she attempted to swivel her seat to him without too much unnecessary movement. With one of her arms in a constricting brace, her motion was jarring and almost pleading for help, but he had no intention of helping. The way she smiled as she fought with the wheels told him that she wanted to be able to do it on her own. "I wondered when I would have the chance to thank you."

Her scratchy voice was thick from tears. His chest swelled at the sound and he inhaled deeply the smell of medicine and cleaner. Her skin was still terribly pale against the white walls, her eyes sunken in with dark circles. Someone had taken the time to wash her hair, but it was in desperate need of its favorite ponytail holder. With the unusually gown with light flowers, she didn't remind him of the bubbling, erratic Fuu he had anticipated. Though she had her face, her eyes told him there was someone different sitting in her place. It wasn't the Fuu he had lost.

Something must have revealed him because she suddenly ducked her eyes from him. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

He frowned in confusion. "What part?"

His tone sounded hard, but she didn't seem to care. Maybe he was the only one to notice.

"I didn't think they would find me so quickly," she replied dryly. "They had been getting closer since I went for you in the prison, but I thought I could still lose them."

She shook her head, her messy hair swaying like a pair of curtains. "I really did try. Threw away my cell, dumped whatever might lead them astray, and took a cab instead a bus so less people would see me."

Her face lifted with a sorrowful expression. "I didn't even take the chance of saying goodbye so you wouldn't suffer my responsibility."

"Shut up, Fuu." He mumbled, uncomfortable with the tension beginning to fill the room.

She ignored him. "They were getting too close and I was certain sooner or later you were going to take another bullet for me. I didn't want to see you go through that again."

"So you just go and die instead," he snapped, his dark eyes sparking. Mugen knew if Jin had been around he would have been scolded for his tone, but the last week had finally work the last inch of his patience—searching for her ass, watching her life hang between realms, and then waiting for her eyes too open while dealing with the stupidest people within the hospital was too much for his temper. He was actually amazed he d been so quiet for that long.

"It's always about you," he growled, his words taking their own life in his throat. "You think you can just walk away and make everything right."

Her gaze shook before she looked to the side, her bangs falling over her dull brown eyes. The movement only furthered his anger. He stepped forward, fists tight at his side. "What makes you think everything becomes right if you walk away? Didn't you realize after the first time you tried to leave us?"

Her chin tucked away against her chest.

His teeth grounded together. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Her face snapped up, eyes like sizzling coals. He was glad to see the familiar fire. He was sick of dealing with the somber girl she had turned into.

"How dare you!" she hissed, her voice stronger than before. "I might not have agreed with my father leaving us at first, but you know as well as I that he left to keep my mother and I safe, just like I did with you and Jin."

He pressed closer. "Your mom died. We both nearly died."

Her jaw locked.

"It didn't change anything," he stated cruelly.

"So I should have let you died!" she snapped loudly, tears streaming. "I should have led you straight to them and let you take another blow that was meant for me!"

"At least let someone who deserves it take the bullet!" he immediately cried.

Her mouth flapped shut and her eyes widened. She grew very silent as one of her hands gripped the book in her lap. He wasn't exactly sure what earned him that reaction, but he didn't show any remorse for his words. The young woman gently shook her head, "I deserve death as much as you, Mugen."

He answered her with an identical shake of the head. "No, you aren't marked by the same…_shit_. You didn't murder anyone. You didn't steal from the poorest of homes. F—! You probably are still a f— virgin!"

She sucked in a small sob; her shoulders shuddered to hold back the new wave of tears. He was completely perplexed by the sight of her watery eyes. He had expected to see her eyes brighten with recognition, maybe even disgust, but not tears.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, a high pitch sound escaping her lips between sobs. Her fingers swept up her face, hiding beneath the cover of her bangs. "I'm so sorry."

For what? For who? For him?

"What?"

"I-I…" she hiccupped. "I had h-hoped you would r-realize…"

His knees were tempted to kneel at her side and his arms were anxious to reach of her trembling figure. Alas, he didn't know how to comfort a crying female. The only secrets of the female race he knew were from the wenches he had humped. They responded to dollar bills, alcohol, and dark talk. None of which he logically believed would stop the tears of the young boxer. She was a far cry from those women.

Yet, he wished he could stop the itch in his limbs.

Her hand abruptly fell and he was shocked to see the guilt in her face.

"I had hoped you would finally see," she declared thickly, cheeks reflecting the ceiling light. Her eyes looked straight into his. "It was what I prayed for every morning and every night."

He tensed. "See what?"

Her searching eyes seemed to switch to three shades duller. She slowly sunk back into her seat. She looked away and mumbled weakly. "It's doesn't matter."

Jerkily, she handled her wheels and brought her face back to the window. He was flabbergasted by the motion and immediately went to say something. She wasn't going to just let this go. He didn't drag through a week of shit to be refused. F—he saved her worthless ass! His mouth flew opened, flinging out only an indistinguishable syllable before her voice overtook his.

"Doctor said that I might have lost use of my legs." She stated wryly.

His throat closed instantly.

Her hand disappeared beneath the cover of small throw. He could see the small bulge move up and down along her leg. It was still frightening to loose the sensation of nerves in her lower half. She had begun to rhythmically check for difference, silently praying for a sudden miracle. "He said there was a small window of hope. He said I could just be weak from the recent stress."

He thought he saw a new tear follow the trail down her cheek, but he couldn't be sure because she swiveled her head away. "He says I have two months. If there are no sign of improvement it is likely I will be handicapped for the rest of my life."

It was like the time he had to face Sara, the sniper. It was like the time he faced that serial killer. It was like he had seen the end to his life's rope. He had seen a flash of a last day and thrown his shoulder into the howling wind. He had been determined not to go down without a fight. He would be no dog shot in the street.

"Are you pissed?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Huh?"

"You heard me," he grunted coldly. "God gave you a shitty poker hand. You can't tell me you ain't pissed."

She appeared to lose sight of him in that moment. Her lip quivered as she glanced down at the glossy leather bound Bible in her lap. The golden letters stared up at her from their seat and she was tempted to cover the words with her hand.

"I was angry…" she mumbled.

"Was?"

She shrugged a small measure. "Who wouldn't be upset? I think it would be almost hypocritical to say you wouldn't feel some sense of loss to wake up to your legs not working."

A nervous smile crept upwards. "But you know what… after hours of crying, I thought about the moments before I was shot."

In seconds her tone flipped to a dreamy channel. "I had been ready to give everything I had for God's glory. I had seen the shadows of the Devil and I had been ready to die. How can I become angry that God only took a part of me instead of letting me die?"

"That's bullshit!" Mugen snapped. Fuu jolted straight in her seat when his angry face pushed forward. There was a desperation beneath the fire burning in his eyes that startled her. It reminded her of the same look she had seen when he gone to fight Sara.

"Don't give me this holy crap!" he barked. "You can't be happy about this!"

"M-Mugen?"

"You should have died than live with this shit!"

She recoiled.

"What do you care, Mugen? You never cared about anything before," she hissed, heartbroken. He blinked rapidly as if he had suddenly woken from some dream. She ignored the way his dark eyes stared into her. She couldn't believe he actually wanted her to be dead than with her. She nearly choked on the few words she was able to push out. "Maybe it w-would have been better if you left me to die in that church."

He waited only two seconds before breathing the phrase that unraveled her emotions.

"Maybe I should have," he mumbled. The air locked in her throat when she heard him. With an angry look, he whirled away and flew out the hospital room. The door cracked loudly against the frame, vibrating throughout the room and possibly through half the ward. The sound had long dulled in her ears when she realized her chin was trembling. Before another second could pass, she burst into tears and pressed her face into her palms.

"Oh Jesus…" she blubbered."Oh, dear Jesus…"

* * *

..

"Just keep it slow, Fuu. You don't want to over exert yourself."

Whatever.

She was already passed the point of overdoing it. Her hair was matted to the sweat beading across her forehead and her knuckles were white from gripping the bars so tight. Yep, twenty yards of mocking, black rubber floor and only four feet had gotten her gasping against the trembling in her arms. The absurd part of the situation, however, wasn't the exertion, but the fact that she was getting away with pushing her body so hard with the nurse standing behind her.

Fuu grounded her teeth together as she somehow dragged her foot forward two more inches.

It had been over five weeks since Mugen had stormed out of her hospital room. After the episode, she had promised to regain her legs. She had gone through several forms of physical training including the thing when they stick a bunch of needles in your limbs. She had begun to lose hope when the fifth week was approaching and she still couldn't feel anything in her legs.

There had been days she thought she felt the needle prick her skin, but the nurse had politely reminded her most handicapped victims believed they could feel the needles. Fuu had then been forced into a blindfolded during the checkups and discovered the sensation she _felt_ was merely a psychological thing. When one wanted something enough, they can make things become reality.

The day she discovered the truth, she had wept for an entire night. It wasn't about her legs. No, ever tear had been shed for Mugen's sake.

Throughout her therapy Jin and Mugen had kept at her side. Every so often they would disappear for food or other unnamed errands, but they always returned to their watch over her. Mugen only spoke to the professional fighter, keeping to conversation strictly about the Shogunate and police activity. They were obviously concerned about assassins coming to finish her in her hospital bed. Whether there were any attempts or not, she didn't know. The two never mentioned any incidents, only rumored information.

On the news, reporters talked about the incident at the Catholic Church as a serial mass murder. None of the dead men were identified except for the clergy who had been killed. Witnesses had been interviewed on television most exclaiming ambiguous things. The one thing that raised her eyebrows was a blurry picture presented before and after each news report. There were several images, but the clearest one showed her bloody form pressed into Mugen's chest with Jin in the foreground. Luckily, the rain had made the lens foggy and caused the best picture to offer no distinguishable features for the three unnamed witnesses. It was reported that the three witnessed were requested to come to the police station for questioning, but she knew that would never happen. Mugen didn't trust cops and Jin didn't care to get wrap up in red tape. Not to forget to mention that going to cop would easily tip off the Shogunate their location.

Both men had heatedly discussed moving Fuu to a different hospital, preferable miles away from the city, but Jin was firmly set to let her recuperate. Mugen colorfully declared the foolish of his decision, but never again brought up the matter. She hoped his silence was a result of his awareness to her fragile condition.

Her health had returned, minus her legs, but she was still broken inside. Everyday Jin wheeled her into the hospital's sanctuary. She would stare up at the statue of the crucified Christ and would whimper. The image always graced her with overwhelming humility. His entire body had been broken while she had only lost her legs.

Even so, her tears remained heartedly for the ex-gangster. She had prayed so diligently for him to find love in God. It had pressed her through the hardships of the last days. If she believed that her suffering might bring someone, especially him closer to salvation than it was worth every bruise and mournful cry. Unfortunately, it appeared the loss of her legs made it difficult for him to accept.

_Why did the good suffer when there was a loving god?_

Suddenly, her right hand slipped. Her knees buckled and her elbow locked around the bar as she went down. Her other hand tried to stop her descent, but it hadn't been ready to support her whole body. Though the rubber matted floor held a fraction more cushion than hard tile she still cried out when she contacted with the ground. As she dealt with the newly acquired headache, she heard feet rush forward and hands sweep under her arms.

"I've got you," the nurse exclaimed gently as she lifted her back to her feet. "Don't worry. I'm here."

Fuu groaned wearily as she fumbled for the rail again. The nurse didn't automatically remove her hold when the young woman had resumed her stance.

"Maybe it would be best to try again tomorrow," the nurse proposed.

Fuu hastily stepped forward. Her arms wobbled, but she still crossed a whole foot of rubber walkway. "No."

The fingers drew back, but the woman persisted. "Miss. Fuu, you really shouldn't—"

"No." Fuu stated louder. She glanced up through her bangs at the end of the twenty foot platform. Jin was watching her closely through his thin rimmed glasses. His face was as unreadable as ever, but she knew the look as one of concern. In the far corner, nearly out of her peripheral vision, Mugen reclined in a plastic chair. Even though he attempted to pretend he was disinterested, his eyes watched every small motion she made. The doctors said it was easier to face the challenge of the platform by having a love one there for encouragement. Normally, it was vocal encouragement, but in the special relationship between her and the guys, their mere presence pushed her onwards. Gritting her teeth, she forced her left foot half a foot and hissed out a painful sound.

She needed to do this.

Another frantic step caused her to loose her balance and all physical contact with the bars. This time Jin came to her the same time the nurse did. As she heard the footsteps vibrate through the floor, Fuu closed her eyes and debated the same question she always confronted when she reached the end of her energy and the rubbery ground. It was the very question Mugen had asked her a month after physical therapy.

* * *

..

_The wind whistled pleasantly outside her window, offering a soft ballad for her limited entertainment. The full morning had dragged out the last of her day's worth of energy and she was perfectly content to read away the afternoon. Plus, reading allowed her to momentarily forget the disappointment from her failed exercises. She couldn't get beyond five feet down the strip. Every day for a solid two weeks, she had reached the invisible mark and collapsed. The stupid line wasn't even halfway. _

_Her eyes hurried to regain their place on the page as she realized she had wandered in thought. She had been doing that a lot lately. She had read pages and noticed she couldn't remember a single sentence. Her mind kept drifting to the cold, unfeeling hospital room where the black strip and rails waited. _

_"Why don't you just quit?"_

_Her head rose up from the Bible in her lap. "What good comes from giving up?"_

_He grunted with disgust from his stretched out position on the bed. "At least you wouldn't go through the same shit every day. You wouldn't see…"_

_His words faded off. She frowned when he ducked his face. The cold truth of unsaid words filled the air like a ticking explosive. She could almost hear an insane voice laughing with glee beneath her feet. _

_Quietly, she looked down at her Bible and stated evenly. "I wouldn't have to fail everyday."_

_She could feel his eyes watching her, waiting for an answer she wasn't entirely sure she had. Yes, she got up everyday and prayed for strength in her limbs, but she was vague about her reasons. She was ready to accept her new life handicapped. She had no idea how she would continue to escape the Shogun with a wheelchair, but she wasn't going to let her gift of life be wasted. _

_God had left her on earth because there was some future purpose she had to uphold. There was something so important that God had sacrificed the joy He would have had if she had been with Him in Heaven._

_"I do it for God," she replied, the words leaping from her mouth as easily as breathing in air. "If there is a chance for a miracle, then I wish to pursue that chance."_

_"And if there is no miracle?" the calm, sadistic response. _

_She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then I will glorify God all the same."_

* * *

..

Hands dragged her feeble body upwards as Fuu heard the nurse instruct Jin to take her back to her room. The nurse was saying something about stress and nerves. The young boxer was tempted to spout a few choice words of her own to the woman, but decided it was a waste of needed air to swear. Besides, she hadn't sworn in over a year and she wasn't interested in breaking the promise she had given God.

Her vision swayed and she wondered if she was on the edge of blacking out. Surely, she hadn't done enough to slip out of consciousness.

Jin shifted from her front to her side, giving her full view of the mocking strip of rubber. Her eyes widened when she saw the red line was a good foot away from her face. She hadn't even made five feet today? Were her efforts beginning to prove useless? She began to panic when she realized she was back on her feet and shifting away from the strip. She was being maneuvered back to her wheelchair.

_Why not give up? _

Tears began to blur her vision and she unconsciously glanced towards Mugen. He was already standing up, ready to go back to her room. He had given up long ago.

_Why not let go?_

She immediately fought against the hands holding her. They were so surprise she slipped out of their grasp and slumped forward. She barely caught the rails before she collapsed. Mugen froze. He scowled and studied her with clouded eyes. She ignored the voices behind her and slid her hands along the metal bar. Jerkily, she crossed half a foot.

_'God, I place this trial in your hands. I no longer have the strength to this. My strength is useless. I need you to this. I need you to cross this line.'_

She was only two inches away from the red line. A tear slipped down under her chin. _'I am willing to live without my legs. I am ready to give them up to glorify you, but God please don't let him be blinded by this.'_

He was tense as her toes brushed the edge of the cherry colored tape.

_'I don't ask for my legs. God, just please give me the miracle to show him Your face.'_

She sucked in a small breath and dragged her foot across the rough, wrinkled tape. It wasn't twenty feet. It wasn't the entire walkway, but it was the farthest she had made thus far. The pad of her foot tingled and she sensed a warmth travel up her calf. The sensation caught her off guard and she suddenly pivoted forward. She clutched the bars and swayed. What…?

Someone moved passed her towards the end of the strip. She looked up and was shocked to see Mugen taken the position Jin had taken earlier. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he looked straight at her with dark eyes.

She hesitated, mind whirring. Her heart hit her ribs and she knew this was it. This was her last chance. The young woman straightened. She locked her jaw and closed her eyes. _'God, help me.'_

Joy swelled in her chest as her first tentative step pushed forward with ease. A smile stretched across her face as she crossed another few inches. Her eyes darted between her toes and the intense stare Mugen wore. She had nearly made it to the second red line (the ten foot marker) with her fourth step. The girl wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time.

Then she crumbled without warning. Her knees hit the floor while her hands never left the bars. She had fallen into the most humble of positions. She stared down at the dark floor as cold, dread settled in her stomach. She didn't want to look up and see his disappointment. Ten feet wasn't twenty. Her heart squeezed painfully and she was tempted to start sobbing.

"God, I love you," she whispered. "I won't give up on you. I'll never let go of you. There is…nothing without you."

As her eyes opened, she was astounded to see a familiar pair of steel toed boots in front of her. Hesitantly, she followed the length of his body up to his rugged, unshaved face. The world stopped when she saw the glint of tears in the crinkle of his eyes. She was so astounded by the unbelievable sight that she didn't even realize he was offering her his hand until several minutes later. Slowly her fingers curled around his, sinking into the warmth of his grip.

She was surprised when he leaned forward and swept his other arm under her knees. When he pulled her up against his chest, she stared up at him. Everything was so wonderfully confusing. What was happening? What was this great event unfolding in her life? She tenderly reached up a brushed away the single tear slipping down his face.

It was so unlike him. The tear had looked almost fake against his hard jaw. Even so, the emotion fluttering behind his aged mask was undeniably real and powerful. Without thinking, she whispered, "It takes a strong man to cry."

She had no idea that her words reacted like a bombshell being dropped on his head.

* * *

..

_Bored with the passage, he flipped over several pages and noticed the writing had transformed from black to red. Curious, he began to read. _

_**"So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened."**_

_**Luke 11:9-10**_

_"Okay, so all I got to do is ask?" he chuckled lightly, "Then I want to be the strongest man alive."_

* * *

..

Even though it had been a joke…

Even though it had been half-hearted… he couldn't deny it had been the single wish of his life. He had always wished to be stronger. He had always wanted to shoulder anything thrown in his face. He had just never realized it had been more than physical strength that he wanted. Maybe it had been that for a time, but it had blossomed into something else. He didn't know when and he wasn't completely sure how, but it had taken over his desires.

His eyes drifted gradually from her warm face as he awakened to the most breath-taking revelation of his life. "Shit."

"Mugen?"

Even when he denied it and buried himself in his _entertainment_, it had always been at the very bottom of his…soul.

"Mugen, are you okay?"

He had subconsciously wanted to believe in more. He had wanted to step out on the water and believe God was more than paper and words. When he had faced the image of her frail, fumbling form stumbling down the path, he was overwhelmed with the sound of her prayer reaching his ears. Hearing her still love a god who had broken her body, forced him to wonder was there something he was missing?

He could almost hear a high pitched voice hissing in his ear. _'Don't be foolish. This girl has made you weak. There's nothing strong about giving into a fairytale.'_

A fairytale? She couldn't have known he had always wished for strength.

Maybe it was his words, inwardly spoken. Maybe it truly was a higher being leaning into his ear and whispering. Either way, he nearly gasped out loud when the words played in his head:

_'I gave her back, now give Me you.'_

His heart thudded loudly in his ear, a sound he thought he would never again hear after he had carved out his chest. Warmth flooded his body as if the floodgates of heaven had broken. His body began to tremble and he nearly lost his grip on the young woman in his arms.

"Mugen?!" she squealed, slightly panicked by his reaction.

He couldn't comprehend the sudden, _welcoming _sensation coursing through his blood. He had never felt so…

His mouth hung open as the word resounded down from the tip of his hair to the bottom of his toes.

_Peaceful._

* * *

**_A/N: So, I said this was the last chapter, but I then decided to split the chapter in two. Chapter thirteen shall be the epilogue._**


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: I'm very, very, very, very ,very, very sorry about the wait. I hate it when authors do this so I understand your frustration with me. Sorry, my first semester of grad school destroyed me, but now I've completed finals and wrote this entire chapter in a day! I know your excited. Please, don't kill me because its short. I'm very happy with it!**_

* * *

* * *

**Through Smudged Glass**

**By angelwings1**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

* * *

_**Strengthening the disciples and encouraging them to remain true to the faith. "We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God," they said.**_

_**-Acts 14:22**_

* * *

..

The night was irritably cold. He enjoyed the crisp beginning of winter. He loved the contrast of icy air hitting his face as curled up next to a warm body in his bed. Unfortunately, tonight was not one of his favorite moments to remember. Two hours waiting in a shady part of town in fourteen degree weather wasn't an activity that got him giddy.

He scrambled up to the front door of the apartment complex, gritting his teeth when he noticed it had started snowing again. The wind hit his side like the iceberg hit the Titanic. He nearly blurted out a curse word as the cold seeped through his battered leather jacket. Even with two shirts and his added hoodie, he felt like he was naked out in the cold. He quickly ducked inside.

Entering the dimly lit stairwell, the hot air swallowed his frigid form. He sighed contently and allowed the tension to melt from his shoulders as he hurried up the steps. He guessed it was close to three in the morning. Not that it mattered, but he hoped it was closer to midnight.

Within the next five minutes, he had reached the top of the stairwell and entered his apartment. After he'd deadbolt the door, he double checked the span of the living room. Everything appeared to be in order. The table was clear of mail, the forms he had dug through earlier were stacked neatly in a folder by the couch, and there was a covered dish waiting by the stove. Even his bed was made like he had expected. Regardless, Mugen ignored it all and headed to the back room.

Momo raced down the hall to greet him, his sleepy eyes blinking up as if to say, "You're late again."

The ex-gangster barely acknowledged the mutt and looked straight at the door. He was tempted to knock, but he knew she didn't care. Quietly, the man pushed opened the door. The room was dark with only a small shaft of moonlight spilling through the sheer of the single bedroom window. She was sitting as usually in her plush chair in the corner with a book lying in her lap. Her head was resting against the windowsill with her hand limply clutching a small blanket she had wrapped around her waist.

Without a word, he crossed the forbidden territory of her room like he did every night. Carefully, he removed the book from her lap and placed it on the dresser. He grimly noticed when his fingers left the worn cover of the novel that her cane was resting against the side of the drawers. Her legs were probably hurting from the cold.

Next, he slid his hands between the cushions and her blanket to cradle the back of her knees and shoulders. He slowly pulled her up into his arms, keeping a watchful gaze on her eyes incase he woke her. Fuu only gave a faint mumble as her cheek rested on his shoulder.

That was where he froze as he did every night he put her to bed. The small fraction of a second as her head touched his shoulder and her hot breath hit the side of his neck, he would hesitate to move. He couldn't understand what it was that made him stop. He knew the longer he held the higher risk it was of her waking, but he was so confused.

Though the process didn't change in the span of seven months, the feeling was not same each time he cradled her. There were some days he stared down at her face and he could see the blood all over again. More than once his heart had shuddered in fear that she had become to pale in his absence. In the beginning, her petite form had felt so alien in his limbs, but now it had become familiar and oddly fitting. Once or twice, he dared to believe his heart had sped with panic.

Somehow a key had been turned inside his soul. The lock had sprung and…_feelings_ had begun to seep through his body. The largest of these emotions that plowed through him was the cold, shaking fear. The fear of the unfamiliar, the uncertain.

He could usually hold the feelings at bay. Throughout his days, he could ignore the chewing on his soul. Even when she smiled, he could push down the heavy lump in his throat and act like nothing was different. The only problem was when he picked her up and put her to bed when he came home at night. He had tried multiple times to stop the feelings from bubbling up into his chest, but the second her chest swelled and she breathed against his neck, he lost himself. He sometimes would stand there for ten minutes wandering in a churning ocean of unleashed feelings.

Whether or not she knew of these startling moments, he was unsure. He believed she knew that there was a difference about him, but he didn't think she connected it to this nightly ritual. No, he believed it was his eyes that gave it away. Since that day, he had never been able to look his reflect square in the face. He had mistakenly caught his reflection in one of the hospital's hall mirrors and instantly noticed the strange glimmer in his eyes. He had never remembered any form of glimmer in his eyes before that day.

A subtle shift in his arms startled the ex-gangster from his thoughts. He immediately headed to the bed with every intention of running away once he dumped her on the mattress. As he bent down over the faded blanket, he winced.

His inability to understand his inner battle was making him a coward. Normally, he would charge into battle without any concern for his wellbeing. If he died in battle, what did he lose? For a time he thought death would be better than living a pointless existence. Yet, now the mere prospect of death stilled the beat of his heart.

He glanced down at the slumbering woman. Someone might say it was because of her that this had happened. That she had shown him hope and thus, he was reluctant to part from her. He had spent the last months mulling over this burning thought and had come to only one conclusion.

* * *

..

_**God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 'For in him we live and move and have our being.' As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.'**_

_**- Acts 17:27-28**_

* * *

..

She wasn't sure what time it was. Maybe it was four in the morning. She knew that the last time she checked the clock it was closer to one. Even so as her mind began to stir in half-state conscious state, she could tell it was still dark outside her window and she was lying down instead of sitting up.

_'He's home.'_ That was her conscious thought. She couldn't remember moving to the bed in the middle of night so the logically deduction was that he had put her in her bed like their normal secret routine. It was quite a shock the first time he had done it.

Since she had been released from the hospital, Mugen had been working with the police station as an anonymous informant. He was mostly giving tips to the cops about gangs and drug dealers, but his main purpose was to uncover the Shogunate's underground network. The police had, at first, ignored the accusations of a terrorist group, but through some leads and visual proof the cops were beginning to awaken from the years of blindness. Once the commissioner had accepted that the Shogunate was a real terror on his streets, he had requested Mugen and Jin as undercover agents.

Neither was willing to pull on the blue uniform and refused in each of their ways. Jin had given a short two letter answer while Mugen had laughed in the officer's face. Though they were unwilling to let the government buy their souls, both men did affirm they would be the eyes for the police force's investigation. If they discovered anything useful, they would make sure to drop a call to the commissioner directly. For this special service, the commissioner, who was a wise man of authority, politely overlooked the outstanding warrants under the two men's names.

Since this secret arrangement had been established, Mugen had been going out a lot at night, nosing around the slums for information. More than once when Fuu had done the laundry, she had found, in his pockets, tell-tale items that spoke volumes of the dangers he was infiltrating at night. She had been wary at first when she discovered the drugs and ammo, but she had calmed down when she noticed every plastic bag of powder and magazine was untouched. What got her excited, however, was the tiny New American Standard Bible she found two weeks after he started his new police work.

She had guessed that her capture months ago had made a drastic change in his person, but she had begun to lose hope when she saw little different in his everyday life style. The only thing that nurtured her faith in God's impact on the man was Mugen's nightly routine to tuck her into bed. That small show of thought for someone other than himself was enough for her to hang onto. It was enough to give her hope.

As the last bit of sleep faded from her brain, she realized someone was watching her. Fuu slowly pulled the cover down and rolled up onto her elbow. When her eyes spotted him reclined in her chair, her eyebrows rose. He studied her for a few silent minutes before turning to look outside her window. She frowned when she saw he was sporting a new bruise under his left eye.

"Rough night?" she questioned softly.

He grunted lightly. She rolled her eyes. Even if the man had changed, he obviously still preferred as little conversation as possible. _'Men…'_

For a time, they just sat there in the comfortable stillness of the winter night. Fuu carefully studied the ex-gangster from her bed. His rigid profile suggested he was uncomfortable with being watched, but that was normal for him. It was the fact that he was still sitting there that got her believing that he had something he wanted to say. She was just afraid to speak and ruin the chance of him talking about what was bothering him. He had spoken little since they had returned to the apartment and she was eager to understand what was happening to him.

She casually leaned backwards prepared to wait the entire night if that's what it took to get him talking. To her extreme pleasure, however, it only took two minutes of waiting before he opened his mouth.

"I think its time I left," he stated evenly, never looking in her direction.

After a small leap of jubilation upon hearing his voice, her heart crashed to the floor. She blinked rapidly, "W-what?"

"I'm leaving," he said louder, colder. His eyes looked to her, the shadows making it difficult for her to identify what he was thinking. "I should have left a long time ago."

Her fingers tightened around the hem of her blanket as she swallowed back her tears. Surely, this wasn't happening. Mugen wouldn't runaway after all that had happened.

"I don't u-understand," she mumbled softly. She stared desperately at the man, hoping it was a simple joke. If he left, she couldn't guarantee what would happen to him. What if he buried everything that he was feeling and return to the slums of his heart? _'Don't go.'_

"I need to go work some things out," he turned back to the window. "I can't do that while I'm here."

She suddenly noticed the small bag on the floor beside her chair. Her shoulders began to sink in despair. He was going to leave tonight. She fought to hold back the tears, knowing it would only agitate the man.

"Where will you go?" Her voice was so meek. She wanted to scold herself for sounding so lost. Months ago she had tried to leave him and now she was desperate to keep him by her side. But wasn't that because she wanted to do what was best for him? Wouldn't it better if he stayed and received some of her positive influence?

Without looking to her, he shrugged, "Somewhere."

Her knuckles turned white. "What do you have to do?"

His face swiveled to her and he studied her face. Maybe he didn't know that answer. Maybe he was as confused as she. With cold clarity, he replied, "I need to let go."

Her heart stopped. She wanted to immediately break down and cry, but she decided it was better if she waited. She took a few minutes to steady her voice before replying, "Let go?"

He pushed out of the chair and stood at the foot of her bed. His face was instantly covered in darkness, making impossible to see more than a small reflection of moonlight in his eyes. "Don't worry about it."

There was something final in his tone that made her grow quiet. Normally, she would never back down in argument with him, but this was mysteriously different.

He stood indecisively at the end of her bed. It was over he told himself. He had said what he needed and nothing was left except to walk out the door. His darker voice told him it would be better to wait till morning when it was warmer, but he angrily ignored the excuse. It would only be more difficult in the morning.

Hastily, Fuu yanked back the covers and dragged her legs over the side of her mattress. He jerked slightly when she fumbled on her feet. Since physical therapy, her legs had been awkward. There were days when she could walk and run as if nothing had ever happen. Unfortunately, there were other times when she couldn't stand without a cane or pass through an hour without a whimper of pain. It was an infuriating battle for him to watch, even though she could smile through any bad day. It was almost too much to watch her knees buckle. Almost.

Grabbing the window sill to steady her, Fuu carefully straightened. She looked straight into his shadowy face. "I want to give you something before you go."

She couldn't let him leave without one last chance.

He nodded and handed her the pale cane. Fuu graciously took the foul item, doing her best to keep her face neutral to his eyes. Oh, how she hated the cane. It was the hardest thing to bear when it came to her legs. She had accepted months ago the life God had granted her, but there were those rare moments where she had to remind herself the blessing she had. Death or a cane? It was those days when death seemed so far away that she had trouble keeping the bitterness out of her heart. She would double her prayers on that day to keep the joy in her smile. She reminded herself it was not for her or Mugen that she smiled, but for His mercy. She clung to the faith that there was a purpose in her handicap. One day she would know what it was.

Limping to her bare dresser, the cripple fighter pulled a small object from her top drawer. Mugen thought it was going to be a Bible, but he was surprised to see something far different. She held out the small object by the length of its chain, allowing the metal to glint in his eyes. The ex-gangster curiously lifted the dog tags to his face.

**_Kasumi Seizou _**

**_April 18, 1959_**

"These were your father's," he stated numbly. His thumb grazed over the indented metal with odd fascination. She nodded solemnly.

"I want you to remember why I keep fighting."

He looked up at her face, uncertain about the tags he held. She smiled sweetly through her tears. "Please, don't forget."

In that span of time that was lost to measure, they leaned towards one another, desperate to cling to more than a final chapter in a story. He almost pulled away when their foreheads touched and eyes slid close. She swallowed painfully as he inhaled the scent of her flower shampoo. She had nothing to keep him here. At least, nothing she wanted to bribe him with. _'God, if this will help him than help him walk out that door right now. He'll never leave if he doesn't go now and I do not have the strength to bear a long goodbye."_

His eyes snapped open, but she didn't see because her eyes were closed. With a strange calmness, the ex-gangster adjusted his lips to brush her ear. "See you later."

She nearly burst out sobbing when he pulled away and went for his bag. Fuu squeezed her shut as she listened to the door click shut behind him. She told herself, _'He has to do this on his own. Only God can lead him.'_

She still fell to the floor and sobbed anyways.

* * *

..

_**"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." **_

_**- Matthew 6:33**_


	14. Chapter 14

_Through Smudged Glass_

_By angelwings1_

* * *

_Chapter 14_

* * *

Every day was taking as long as a week and month was as bad as a year. By honest measure, it had only been three years, but she hardly agreed with that deduction. If someone would ask how long it had been since she had last seen his stupid face, she would involuntarily answer ten years or more.

It had been a trying time for her. The first year had been the worst she had endured in her the history of her life. At first, she waited for him to come back, but when seven months had shown nothing, Fuu had decided it was time to move on. She hadn't been ready, but she had forced herself to leave her small one bedroom apartment and swapped her home for a new city. She had gotten several invitations to take a leadership position with an underground Christian movement, but she had refused, hoping he would come back to her. When Zuikou had visited in the seventh month, he had opened her eyes.

* * *

..

_'You're the first black listed Christian to survive," he stated firmly. "The members are looking to you for guidance."_

_Fuu frowned as she stared at the rain through her blinds. "They should look to God, not me. I didn't survive because of my doing."_

_"Even so, what do you think is good about hiding away in this apartment and doing nothing?" _

_She closed her eyes, "I—"_

_"Hold long will you wait?"_

_As he watched her back, he saw her shoulders grow tense. Her voice was hollow as she replied, "I don't want to give up."_

_His heart sunk. "You don't have to."_

_"But the organization wants me to move," she replied sharply. "If I disappear, how will he ever find me?"_

_Several long minutes passed, "Let God worry about that."_

_She __**had**__ waited for seven long months. Fuu sighed and gave into the small voice in her heart. She didn't trust her voice so she gave a small nod in reply. _

* * *

..

_**Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day **__**is**__** its own trouble.**_

_**Matt 6:34**_

* * *

..

With a heavy heart, she had closed the door on her home and traveled two hundred miles away. She had numbly stepped into her new place, an apartment not much from her last place. As she stared at the soft green wall paper, she repeated to her heart that she had to let go like he had done. She ignored the way her nails bit into her palm and willed her feet the rest of the way through the doorway.

The next years had been a vague blur. She had become one of seven advocates for the secret organization called the Underground Church (the UC). She had been part of the organization since the end of her road trip with Jin and Mugen. When she had disappeared from the two men's life, she had gone to learn about her father's lost days. She had been such a determined girl that she had accidentally fallen into the UC's secret meeting hall. She had risen up a big fuss with her abrupt appearance. So much that she was surprise they took her in.

Digging through her father's recent history with the organization, Fuu had become deeply involved. She had learned Christianity had secretly lost its foothold in the country. Churches still stood in the streets, but it was a farce for the weak minded citizens. As long as the churches didn't act up too much, the Shogunates (the organization to keep order and religious freedom under the government's palm) wouldn't do anything too _drastic_, such as executed a leader of a church and replacing him with a Shogun.

She had learned the UC was attempting to reach people through their secret churches that meet in apartments, back rooms of grocery stores, and other random hidden places. The organization would also attempt to return religious freedom to the country, but with so much red tape, propaganda, and disbelief amongst the citizens, the UC had made little progress with the atheist president.

The UC's last and most important purpose was to hide Christians and black listed individuals running from the Shogunate. They would set up homes and offer small paying jobs for the frightened. With time, the Unseen (as they became called) would blend into the crowds in the street and continue with new lives.

For a year, Fuu had been caught up in the silent war between Christians and the Shogunates. She hadn't accepted the religion, but her heart had constricted when she saw how the people fought for their beliefs. Perhaps, she had become a look out for the gatherings because she could see why her father abandoned her and her mother. Maybe she had become a messenger between cell groups for the UC was because she wanted to apologize to her deceased father for all the bitterness she had held against him all those years. In all, her involvement in the beginning had been for her father's memory.

It was at the end of the first year that had changed everything for her. She had begun to believe in their words, had felt the press of loneliness, had seen how lost she was, and in one heart felt night when she had stood listening in front of the door that led into the secret service, she had broken down. Falling to her knees, she had inwardly admitted that she was still angry with her father and God. She had realized she was still furious for her father for leaving her for a book while she was simultaneously furious that God stole his diligent disciple from her outstretched fingers. She had cried and cried that night.

But that wasn't how she gave into God's calling. No, she had angrily went home that evening and packed up her things. She stormed straight to the UC leaders and loudly stated she had her fill. Her feet had spun her away before they could reply and she had yank the door opened, ready to say goodbye to His voice. She was a fool, however, to believe she could run away from everything she had learned in the past months. As she stepped into the arch, she had heard someone stand. _"Even if you leave, He will be there."_

She had froze, her heart pounding. She knew what he implied and she knew in the depths of her anger that the man was being honest. Her hand clenched her backpack as she kept her back straight. _"Where was He the day my father died?"_

The tears had spilled when she had heard the man's response. _"God was right there, holding his hand."_

She didn't want to be in the crossroad of that decision. She wished selfishly that she could go back to her ignorance and pulled the covers over her weary head. Yet, she couldn't be like some and pretend she didn't know. It was too much to forget. More so, His voice was too insistent on her heart.

That day, she had crumbled into the arms of the men and women who had protected her for the last year. Their whispers of encouragement and empathy had led her back to the apartment. For nearly twenty-three hours, she had sat on the floor of her kitchen thinking about everything. It was during that stormy evening that she came to believe.

Fuu wearily shoved her key into her apartment door. Five hours of discussions with the other six leaders had brought a sharp pain to her left temple. All she wanted to do at the moment was to lie down on the couch and take a few aspirins. She had to locate some apartments for new members, but she could wait a few hours. It was still early.

Walking inside, Momo barreled from across the living room, yipping excitedly. Fuu grinned as she headed towards her kitchen counter with her mail and paperwork. "Hey Momo, how was your day?"

The mutt gave a sharp bark and wagged his tail. Fuu pretended to understand her dog's signals. "Oh so you visited the market today? Did you get more dog food? I know we're getting low on that and coffee."

She glanced to Momo before chuckling, "No? Momo, what am I going to do with you? Shouldn't help out once and a while? You could at least do the dishes."

The small dog grew quiet and blinked at his master's amused face. Turning away, Fuu began to separate her mail and paperwork.

"You freeloader!" Fuu stated evenly, her eyes dancing. "You know I took out the trash last—"

Pushing aside a piece of junk mail, Fuu stared mutely down at the colorful picture of mountains. The vibrant gray and white peaks were stabbing into the cloudy blue jay skies with a pair of goats grazing on hillcrests in the foreground. Her quiet smile grew as she lifted the postcard and read the italic words at the bottom right.

"Virginia," she mumbled affectionately. She brushed her thumb along the line of the mountains before flipping the small rectangle over. As expected, there was a short passage written in chicken scratch on the other side:

_"Who among you fears the LORD  
and obeys the word of his servant?  
Let him who walks in the dark,  
who has no light,  
trust in the name of the LORD  
and rely on his God." Isaiah 50:10_

She involuntarily nodded and read the small comment beneath the verse. _"Three years have done much. By letting go, I've found it."_

Fuu became very still as she reread the short sentence and studied the familiar single letter "M" signature at the end. Even though she had changed apartments without his knowing, he had somehow found out her address and begun to send her postcards a few weeks after her move. She had been completely perplexed when she had gotten the first card. Her name was unlisted and under a false identity so whoever sent the postcard was confused. She had stared at the picture of Boston down district, believing it was meant for the previous renter. After all, her name had been replaced with "resident." She searched for a return address, but finding none, she looked at the signature. Her heart had stopped when she saw the "M."

From then on, she would receive postcards at random times from random cities. She at least got one every week. She would take each and wonder how he was doing. He was traveling a great deal, but he wouldn't give details about what was going on in his life. With each card, she would follow the path of his travel on her map, but he always kept his messages short and vague with only a verse to give some type of clue. He had changed a great deal when she had died, but he still had difficulty expressing things. He had played too long to be the uncaring, bad boy to suddenly flipped switches. It was huge for him as it was to get any form of communication from him. Five years ago, he wouldn't have bothered for the stamp.

Coming back to the present, she wondered ideally what he meant by his bottom comment. She still didn't understand what it was that had made him leave. Had he been searching for something? Had his search been the same as her? Understanding? His words suggested a finality, but she had no idea what that should mean to her.

She sighed deeply, mumbling his name. Momo's ears lowered immediately catching on to the young woman's deflated emotions. He whimpered softly and pressed against her leg. Fuu smiled down at her friend, glad to have someone. She and Jin had kept in contact, but the older fighter had kept to the town where Shino lived. She had become very close to her uncle and had several companions in the Underground Church. Unfortunately, she had been unable to talk about Mugen to anyone. Part of her had felt shameful for being so hung up on the ex-gangster when she should be content with God's love. To discuss it with others would be like admitting that she cared about him more than God. She knew it was foolish to think it, but she still couldn't open her mouth. Only Momo and God knew anything.

Fuu was about to put down her postcard when her eyes noticed how off balanced the card looked. She narrowed on the passage, confused. She scanned the postcard twice before she realized the right side of the card was blank. Her apartment's address wasn't written in the necessary box. There was no address at all! That meant—

A shifting noise in the floor caused her to whirl. Her sight immediately fixed on the rugged figure standing in the center of her living room. Her mind was shutting down fast as her feet sunk into the floor. She numbly guessed he had been out of sight behind the door when she had come in. How else would she have overlooked the one man she had been desperate to see?

She was distinctly aware that he looked cleaner than normal. He had never reeked, but he did have fresh pair of jeans and clean scarlet polo. Her eyes lingered on his torn leather jacket, happy to see he had gotten rid of it. His lean body looked that much more appealing in the jacket.

She numbly looked up at face, noting how he still let his face get scraggly. His memorable eyes were intently fixed on her, following any subtle movement she made. Her body tingled as he strode forward. He looked as handsome as ever. As he grew close, the only word she could manage was his name in a small, breathy whisper.

"Took you long enough to get home," he stated curtly. His voice was strong as ever and pleasant to hear even if it still held the same arrogance. Just begin able to hear him again brought the life back to her frozen form.

She crossed her arms. "You could have mentioned you were coming. Might have been here waiting."

He gave a short laugh. "Where's the fun in that?"

The sound of his mocking laughter instantly sparked a smile on her face. "How have you been?"

He shifted to his other foot before shrugging indifferently. The ex-gangster glanced downwards. "Fine."

She was amused that he was able to give her an answer that didn't include a grunt. Holding up her new postcard, she quirked her eyebrow in a questioning expression. He gave her a flat look.

"What does it mean?" she asked, bringing it back to her side.

His hands shoved into his pockets. He hesitated before replying vaguely, "Lots of things."

She hadn't expected a real answer, but she was prepared to get it out of him. Throwing the postcard on top of her other mail, Fuu rounded the countertop and headed to the fridge. A small spring was in her step. "Well, we have time. I've got nothing plan."

She checked her fridge and reached for two cans of her favorite diet orange soda. "I've got a frozen lasagna. I can heat it up and you can start at the beginning."

She pulled herself out of the fridge, holding up the cans in both hands. "How about you tell—"

Her blood ran dry as she spotted the small item lying on the countertop between her and the ex-gangster. She felt the wet cans slipped from her fingers and if she had paid attention she would have heard them hit floor. Mugen was unable to look her in the face. Instead, he stared down at the plain silver ring.

Her eyes grew blurry. Snapping her face up, she studied the fidgeting man. Years seemed to pass before she gained enough courage to reach for the smooth band. Her fingers shook as the curled around the slightly warm metal. When he kept his eyes down, her heart constricted. Lost in a daze, her thumb followed the perfect circle.

"W-wh-what is this?" her tongue fumbled stupidly. She winced at how she sounded. She inhaled deeply to steady herself before asking again. "What does this mean?"

Mugen pushed away from the counter abruptly, turning his back to her. He stalked over to the furthest side of the living room. Fuu bit down on her lower lip and clenched the ring against her side.

"What do you think it means?" he answered tersely, never turning. The room was heavy with the darkness folding in on itself. She was thrown off by his brutal tone. "Why would a man give a ring to a woman?"

New tears filled her eyes. Not only did he call her a woman, but, in his own way, he had declared a proposal. Fuu gaped mutely, overcome with disbelief and tears. The last thing she had thought about was Mugen asking to marry her. It was utterly and completely out of character. The thought of him in a tux across from her in a chapel was beyond her imagination. She had to be dreaming up everything entirely.

She was startled when he flew around, his eyes as wild as the day they met. He focused intently on her face. "We're the same now."

"Same?" she was baffled. He swallowed and shuffled forward, his movement jerky. For once, he didn't appear like the calm and collect fighter he was. He appeared to be more off his balance than ever, especially when he stumbled mid-stride. She was tempted to help steady him. Not that she had the sense to anything at the time.

"We're the same," he repeated once he was around the counter. He watched her, searching her face.

"Y-You know about the dirty rags," he tried again, opening his empty hands. She glanced at them, half-expecting to see the rags. She waited for more, convinced there was more to his madness. He had always been a confusing fighter. It was no wonder one could get lost when he opened his mouth.

Mugen groaned in frustration, "You know! They say what we do is like dirty rags!"

"Huh?"

"Everything I do is worthless," he blurted.

Fuu snapped her mouth close. The world stopped as the words sunk to the floor.

"Everything I do is worthless," he repeated heavily, looking straight into her eyes. He appeared to have steady as he swallowed. "I could change. I could become exactly like four-ey—Jin, but it wouldn't matter."

"I don't understand—"

"I was filth!" he snapped loudly, his voice bouncing off the ceiling. Her heart skipped. His jaw was tense and a blood vessel was twitching under his right eye. "Years ago, I should have died. I should have taken what I deserved and died."

She weakened. "Everyone deserves second chances, Mugen. That's what Jesus offers."

"That's it!" He rushed out. "The only way I was going to measure up was a second chance, but you know as well as I that second chances aren't given to rapist and murderers."

She flinched. "You've raped someone?"

His eyes grew dull. Looking down, he quietly replied. "There are many things that I never mentioned."

Fuu's mind whirled, understanding crashing down on her like an eighteen wheeler. Mugen had been hanging on to his evil deeds, unable to understand becoming a new creation in Christ like it said in the Bible. The idea was unfathomable to him.

"That's what you let go," she mumbled, her tone astonished. Unconsciously, she pulled her curled hand up to her chest. "I always thought it was me you let go of, but it was guilt. Wasn't it?"

He hung his head, looking every bit unlike the strong man he had always looked to be. Her tears spilled over, every drop yanking apart the stitches that kept her heart together. Though she knew only little of his days before he met her, Fuu knew Mugen had passed through a suffocating darkness.

"People do things for different reasons," he spat. He could almost taste the blood again. An image bodies raced through his thoughts. "When it's done, however, you always feel those eyes on you. Did you get away with it?"

Mugen studied the toes of his boots as he remembered those first days. "When you're new to it, you feel guilt. You don't understand it as guilt. You think it's just the dread of getting caught. With time, you learn to ignore it or push it away. Soon you never feel it or anything else."

He had begun to lose the revelation that he was standing in her kitchen. He was being dragged back to forgotten streets and a time already passed. The blood was fresh at his feet. The birds were screeching louder than ever and the hateful sensation of loneliness pressed against his cold heart.

"I went home." His voice was worn. "It was the only way."

Her bright eyes told him she was still confused. He sighed, feeling the stiffness travel down from his neck to his knees. The last three years had awakened him to all sorts of new pains.

"I had to let go." He repeated evenly, the memories beating against him. "I had ignored my home at first. I didn't think I needed to remember, but that's exactly what I should have done the day I left."

Their gazes connected. Slowly, he drifted closer, a tension growing between them. "It says our sins are washed away by forgiveness, but I didn't believe it. I didn't understand it. I went to homeless shelters. I found churches. I wanted to see if it possible to do something different. In the end, however, I was running from myself."

Her free hand snatched his and her chin trembled. "It doesn't matter what you did back then, Mugen. You know He died and took the weight of our sins. If you believe, there is nothing to run from."

There was a tightness in his chest. Offering a small smile, the ex-gangster leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. She looked up at him, expectantly.

"That's why we're the same," he whispered playfully. "I believe."

The last two words were warm and nearly too soft to be heard. Her heart soared out of her chest as she hugged his neck. His collar grew wet, but it didn't matter. Three years of missing the feel of her was enough to hold back any retort. Gradually, his arms slipped around her back. He didn't even notice his hold was still awkward. I'll he thought about was how everything had fallen right into place.

"That's w-what I p-p-prayed for," Fuu admitted between hiccups. "Everyday y-you were gone. It w-was all I could do to get m-me through the days."

Her arms tightened. "Don't leave me, again."

He slowly pulled back and set her down. His hand covered the hand that held the ring and he gave her his trademark smirk. "Hadn't planned on it."

Fuu smiled brightly and yanked his head down into a searing kiss. His hand tightened marginally on her hip as his lips loved her. At time she was too busy experiencing the pure joy filling her heart, but she would later, after she had gotten in the car to get a marriage license, realize just how complicated everything had been. If someone would have told her years ago that she would marry Mugen, she would have laughed in their face. _"That would take a miracle!"_

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..

_If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. _

_Matt 7:20b_

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_**A/N: It's finally done... I am so happy with this story. I think its my best work. I hope you have enjoyed. Please let me know.**  
_


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